
Class _T:^_^^^-^ 



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Copyright))^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 




R. Pitcher IVoodzvard at his journey's cud. 



On a DONKEY'S 

Hurricane Deck 



A Tempestuous Voyage of Four 
Thousand and Ninety-Six Miles 
Across the American Continent on 
a Burro, in 340 Days and 2 Hours 



STARTING WITHOUT A DOLLAR AND 
EARNING MY WAY 

BY 

R. PITCHER WOODWARD 

(PYTHAGORAS POD) 
Author of 

"TRAINS THAT MET IN THE BLIZZARD" 



Containing Thirty-nine Pictures from 
Photographs Taken **en Voyage" . 



} 1 > > 



1902, 






I. H. Blanchard Co., Publishers 
NEW YORK 



THE LIBRARY Of 
CONGRESS, 

Two *owee RtocfvK) 

JUN. 2? 1902 

gi^XXa No. 




AK/^( 



COPYRIGHT, 1902, 

BY 

R. PITCHER WOODWARD 



,•• ••• ••; 



c c 







CONTENTS. 

Part I. 

I. Madison Square to Yonkers ii 

II. Donkey's many ailments 19 

III. Polishing shoes at Vassar 2^ 

IV. An even trade no robbery 35 

V. The donkey on skates 42 

VI. Mac held for ransom 51 

VII. I mop the hotel floor 60 

VIII. Footpads fire upon us 68 

IX. In a haymow below zero 74 

X. An asinine snowball 83 

XL One bore is enough 90 

XII. At a country dance 98 

XIII. A peculiar, cold day 105 

XIV. I bargain for eggs 1 1 1 

XV. Gypsy girl tells fortune 116 

XVI. All the devils are here. 123 

XVII. Darkest hour before dawn 132 

XVIIL Champagne avenue, Chicago 142 

Part II. 
By Pye Pod and Mac A'Rony. 

XIX. Donk causes a sensation 153 

XX. A donkey for Alderman 158 

XXI. A donkey without a father 169 

XXII. Rat trap and donkey's tail 173 

XXIII. Mac crosses the Mississippi 178 

XXIV. Pod hires a valet 183 

3 



CONTENTS 



XXV. 

XXVI. 
XXVII. 
XXVII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 
XXXI. 

XXXII. 

XXXIII. 

XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 

XLIV. 

XLV. 

XLVI. 

XLVII. 

XLVIII. 

XLIX. 

L. 

LI. 

LII. 

LIIL 

LIV. 

LV. 

LVI. 



Done by a horsetrader 190 

Pod under arrest 197 

Adventure in a sleeping bag 208 

Mayor rides Mac A'Rony 213 

Accross the Missouri in wheelbar- 
row 219 

Pod in insane asylum 224 

Narrow escape in quicksand 237 

At Buffalo Bill's ranch 243 

Fourth of July in the desert 250 

Bitten by a rattler 253 

Havoc in a cyclone 260 

Two pretty dairy maids 265 

Donks climb Pike's Peak 273 

Sights in Cripple Creek 280 

Baby girl named for Pod 287 

Treed by a silvertip bear 293 

Nearly drowned in the Rockies. . . . 304 

Donkey shoots the chutes 309 

Paint sign with donk's tail 319 

Swim two rivers in Utah 326 

Initiated to Mormon faith 339 

Typewriting on a donkey 343 

Pod kissed by sweet sixteen 348 

Last drop in the canteen 352 

How donkey pulls a tooth 364 

Encounter with two desperadoes.. 369 

Donk, boy and dried apples 380 

Lost in Nevada desert 385 

A frightful ghost dance 393 

Across Sierras in deep snow 400 

All down a toboggan slide 409 

'Frisco at last, we win! 415 



.J 



5 J''- 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

(Portrait) The traveler at the journey's end. 
'I bade my friends farewell." -^ 
'We consumed a half hour in the gigantic task." 
I found the captive drinking with other jackasses." 
We tramped tired and footsore into the village." 
Mac could draw my luggage instead of carrying it." "^ 
Mac's little legs would get stuck." ;. -- 
Mac supervised the work." 
The only time I got ahead of him. 

I scrutinized his hat inquisitively." " j 

He accused me of attempting suicide." ! 

We made slow headway to the Mississippi. ! 

In this way I crossed that bridge of size." ; 

And I saw the streak of daylight." ^^ ; 

Mac was so slow that his shadow beat him to town." • 

Over the Platte bridge, after blindfolding them." 
I killed my first rattlesnake." j 

That was the town of Korty." I 

Climbing Pike's Peak." | 

He had caught a nice mess of trout." : 

Trail through the timber." 

Independence Pass; one of the loftiest of the Conti- ; 

nental Divide." ! 

"Trail to Florisant." i 

i 

5 i 



(( 



a 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Two days of hard climbing to cross Western Pass." 

Through thickets, tangled roots and fallen trees." ^ 

"To swim and float on Salt Lake." 

"Skull Valley desert, we stopped to feed and rest." 

"The last and only drop." ^ 

"Just finished lunch when the posse arrived." 

"Coonskin and I took shelter behind our donkeys." 

"Through Devil's Gate, their panniers scraped the walls ^ 
of the rocky gateway." 

"Fired their revolvers in the air." 

Some Piute Indians who had camped close by." 

Playing Solitaire on Damfino's broad back." 

Began to plow snow toward Placerville. ; 

The cattle passed us, after we donks had broken the 
trail." 

"Across on the exclusive Solano." 

"I pointed toward the goal." 

"The ferry approach in 'Frisco was choked with a 
rabble." 



<< 



li 



a 



i( 



PROLOGUE. 

This is as true a story of my "voyage" as I am capable of 
writing. Besides the newspaper accounts, two magazine articles, 
illustrated on this subject have been published, the only ones 
contributed by me, and they hardly outlined the trip. I have left 
out a hundred interesting incidents and culled and edited until 
I am tired, in order to condense this volume to convenient size. 
On the other hand, notable adventures only recalled by my 
photographs have been cheated of a mention, because the donkey 
ate my notes — he ate everything in sight, and did not discrimin- 
ate between a comic circus poster and a tragic diary. 

Ever since completing the trip, I have promised this book 
"next month," but owing to the checkered career of the MS. 
with ninety-seven publishers (all of whom declared that the 
book should be brought out at once, but they lacked the nerve to 
publish it), I am only now able to fulfil my promises. This is 
no romance. When I did not walk with the donkey or carry 
him, he carried me the whole four thousand and ninety-six miles, 
which includes the distance traveled when he balked and backed. 

With my two cameras I secured six hundred pictures descrip- 
tive of the journey across eleven states, through the four sea- 
sons, during that long, long year; only by them and my diary 
am I brought to realize it is not a wild, weird dream. Now it is 
over, I sometimes smile over things recalled which, when they 
happened, found me as serious as the donk — grave in the superla- 
tive degree — and thoughtless people and those who never even 
crossed the plains by train may style my experience a mere 
outing or "picnic." General Fremont and other distinguished 
pioneers emphasize in their writings the pleasures of their over- 
land trips. They, as did the emigrants of the '40s and '50s, set 
out in spring time from the Missouri or the Mississippi in com- 
panies, with money, wagons, cattle and supplies, and with one- 
third of the continent already behind them. The Indians and big 



PROLOGUE 

game of the prairies provided excitement that lent a charm to the 
undertaking; it is dull monotony that kills. 

I started four days before winter, practically without money, to 
support, from earnings only, myself and dumb partner from New 
York city to San Francisco. 

It required twelve weeks to traverse the Empire State, through 
a severe season when and where I suffered the most. The de- 
lightful part of the journey was while crossing the Rockies. In- 
stead of taking the shortest cut, I had to consider the towns where 
I might best make expenses, to look for the best roads and desert 
trails by springs. Three times when lost I traveled far out of 
my course, once twenty miles into a mountain forest. 

It is only five days across by rail. Have you traveled it — in 
summer? How monotonous grew those seas of alkali, sand (rock 
waste), cacti and sage as the hours lengthened into days! Yet 
with comfortable beds, shade, meals served, cool drinks, and books 
to read, at times feeling yourself speeding through the air a mile 
to the minute, you wearied of the "voyage." Five days ! Multi- 
ply them into weeks, then into months, double and add five weeks 
— forty-nine weeks ! Fancy yourself for such a period on a slow 
burro which walks half your natural pace, and so small that if 
you wear roller skates while in the saddle you may ease the ani- 
mal; ride one mile astride; when you feel about to split, ride the 
second mile side-ways ; when your back feels ready to break, ride 
the third mile Turkish fashion ; by this time your legs are be- 
numbed and your feet asleep, so walk a mile and carry the jack- 
ass ; you will thereby quiet your nerves, rest your bones, and 
make better time. 

If ever you are tempted to ride a donkey overland, refrain. 
Rather creep across backwards on your hands and knees, or cir- 
cumnavigate the globe in a washtub. If you still persist, why, 
ride a donkey twenty miles in a pouring rain, then follow your 
own judgment. If you wish my donkey's advice, I will introduce 
him. His head is longer than his ears, which was not the case 
when he set out with me. R. P. W. 



8 




"/ bade my friends farrzccll. 



PART 1. 



On a Donkey's Hurricane Deck 



CHAPTER I. 

By this hand, thou think'st me as far 

in the devil's book as thou and Falstaff, 

for obduracy and persistency. Let the 

end try the man. 

— Shakespeare. 

A noisy, curious, gaping multitude was crowded about 
the Bartholdi Hotel, New York. It was just after the 
noon hour on Friday, November 2y, 1896, the day on 
which I was to start on my long and memorable journey 
across the continent on a donkey. The corridors were 
filled with interested guests, the reception room held about 
a hundred of my friends who had come to bid me God- 
speed, and less than a hundred thousand people choked 
Madison Square and the streets leading into it. 

I had agreed with a friend to forfeit to him five 
thousand dollars, in case I should fail to make a donkey 
trip from New York to San Francisco in three hundred 
and forty-one days, under the following conditions : 

Start from New York City, without a dollar in pocket 
and without begging, borrowing, or stealing, procure a 
donkey, and, riding or leading the beast, earn my way 
across the continent to San Francisco, and register at its 
leading hotel within the schedule time. I must cover the 
whole distance with a donkey by road or trail only; an- 
nounce in a prominent newspaper of New York my start, 
at least twenty-four hours in advance, and mention the 
hour, day, and starting point. Seated on a donkey, I must 
parade on portions of Broadway, Fourteenth and Twenty- 

II 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

third Streets, Fifth, Madison, and West End Avenues; 
both the donkey and I must wear spectacles, and I a frock- 
coat and ''plug" hat, but, the latter to be discarded at 
pleasure when once across the Mississippi River, the coat 
to be worn to San Francisco. 

I slyly suggested the two most absurd conditions, be- 
lieving it would be easier to earn my way in the role of a 
comedian than in the garb of a serious-thinking, imposed- 
upon mortal. I reasoned that I should have to live on 
sensation and notoriety, and, perhaps, keep from starving 
by employing my wits. These reflections I kept to myself. 
My "friend" chuckled amusedly, doubtless picturing in 
his mind the circus I was about to provide. 

Without delay I began the preparations for the asinine 
journey. After much troublesome searching, I managed 
with the help of Hennessy, a stable-keeper, and Dr. 
Moore, a veterinary surgeon, to secure an option on a 
small donkey at James Flanagan's sale stables. Macaroni 
was the animal's name, and the price to be paid was $25. 
Then I got our coachman to go among his friends to see 
if he could get hold of a coat — a Prince Albert — and 
stove-pipe hat. He succeeded admirably, and when I had 
ordered spectacles for myself and the donkey, I was ready 
for the trip. I reached the hotel on the appointed day at 
one o'clock, borrowed the donkey for my official start, sent 
him back to the stables, then went to the Reception Room. 
Among my friends awaiting were my "friend," the land- 
lord of the hotel, a photographer who had taken a picture 
of me seated on the donkey a few days before, and had 
come to deliver the photos ; and my attorney, for the Chief 
of Police had refused me a permit to parade on the streets, 
and threatened my arrest if I proved to be a public nui- 
sance. I borrowed a pen and bottle of ink, and, after 
bowing a greeting to my friends assembled, set to work 

12 



MADISON SQUARE TO YONKERS 

putting my autograph on the pictures, which I offered for 
sale at twenty-five cents. 

Bless my suspenders, and how they went ! I made up 
my mind that we "two donkeys" would many times have 
greater difficulty in obtaining quarters before I reached 
my destination. For an hour the fist of Pye Pod swung 
a powerful quill and inscribed on each photograph a name 
that would go into his-story. Silver jingled on the table; 
the anxious hands of the crowding patrons got mixed in 
the shuffle, and some got two pictures and others got 
none; the ink flew about recklessly, and there were no 
blotters at hand ; my heart thumped, and I was so excited 
that I kissed by mistake an indignant girl friend in place 
of my sister; and finally stole my sister's lace handker- 
chief, instead of that of a sweetheart, but which, however, 
I failed to discover till six months afterward ; and still I 
lacked the requisite sum. 

I now had twenty-four dollars, but I needed at least 
forty-one. Although I had made a five-dollar payment to 
Flanagan, that money came from my private purse and 
must be redeemed and returned; besides, I must pay $12 
to the photographer for the 200 photos delivered to me, 
and $4 more to the blacksmith's representative for shoeing 
the donkey. 

"I will lend you all the money you want," said the 
president of one of my clubs ; and my "friend's" ears and 
eyes were directed upon me. 

"I cannot beg, borrow, or accept gratuities," I ex- 
claimed, firmly; "I propose to fulfill the terms of my 
wager to the letter, and when I accomplish it, be able to 
make a sworn statement to that effect." 

Just then I heard a newsboy calling, "EXTRA — ALL 
ABOUT THE GREAT DONKEY RIDE." 

At once I dispatched a friend with money to purchase 

13 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the papers, while I followed him to the hotel exit, where 
I stationed myself in full view of the crowd and drew 
from my pocket a blue lead pencil, ready for a new task. 
The papers secured and brought to me, I scribbled my 
name on them and offered them for a dime apiece. 

"I have no time to make change, so give me the amount 
you wish to pay," I said to the eager purchasers. In fif- 
teen minutes I had enough dimes and quarters and fifty- 
cent pieces to enable me to square my accounts and send 
for my donkey. 

In the course of a half hour. Macaroni was induced by 
sundry persuasions to invade the noisy precinct of Madi- 
son Square and come up to the hotel door ; and, with a 
small surplus of cash in pocket, I bade my friends fare- 
well and got into the saddle. 

Amid a deafening ''tiger" from the multitude, the 
"lion" of the hour majestically proceeded down Broad- 
way to Fourteenth Street ; and the most sensational parade 
New York had ever witnessed had begun. 

My lazy steed barely crawled ; he stopped every rod or 
two, and generally in front of a car or other vehicle. It 
was an event for the street gamins, and, had they not 
trailed close behind us through the city and given Mac 
occasional goads and twists of the tail, I doubt if I could 
have reached Harlem by midnight. It was a terrible ride, 
and I often have wondered since how I escaped with my 
neck. 

Passing down Fourteenth Street, we turned up Fifth 
Avenue, crossed Madison Square, paraded Madison Ave- 
nue to Thirty-third Street, turned to the left over to Fifth 
Avenue and passed the Waldorf-Astoria, followed Forty- 
second Street to the Boulevard, and up the avenue to 
Seventy-second Street, and then up West End Avenue, 
past my ''friend's" residence. There I was stopped by a 

14 



MADISON SQUARE TO YONKERS 

member of the mounted police, and, to my surprise, was 
tendered a Loving-cup Reception by my ''friend's" pretty 
daughter, who, with a number of our mutual friends, wel- 
comed me while her father was at his office expecting a 
telegram that Pye Pod had given up his trip. 

All drank to the pilgrim's progress. Wines, flowers 
and ice cream, tears, and best wishes, all contributed to the 
happy function, while out of doors, an incident happened 
that caused me to rush to my donkey's side. It seems that, 
in looking through his green glasses, he mistook the iron 
picket screen that guarded a young and hopeful shade tree 
for some kind of verdant fodder, and destroyed a couple 
of teeth. The incident threw a damper on the reception, 
so I made my adieux, and resumed my fated journey with 
a heart still hopeful, yet heavier than it ever felt before. 

It was 7 P. M. when Mac and I stopped at the Minot 
Hotel, Harlem, and registered for the night. Among my 
several callers that evening was a Professor of a Riding 
Academy who claimed to have ridden horseback from 
ocean to ocean a few years previous and within several 
feet of his death after losing several horses ; and he de- 
scribed to me the perils of my prospective trip, the bound- 
less, waterless deserts and snow-covered mountains, the 
tornadoes and tarantulas, and the untamed Indians, and 
ferocious prairie dogs, and begged me to give up the 
journey. Dear old Professor, how often on that voyage 
on the hurricane deck of my donkey, did I indulge in 
grievous meditation on the wisdom of your advice! 

I simply thanked the gentleman for his tender concern 
about my welfare, and sold him a chromo for a quarter. 

After a bath, I enjoyed a delicate sleep, and next day 
set out in a dripping rain for Yonkers, over twenty miles 
away, with less than a dollar in pocket. I had only sold 
enough pictures on the way to Harlem to defray my hotel 

IS 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

bill, as a stringent city ordinance prohibited it without a 
license, and I had difficulty in avoiding the vigilant police. 

But, although fortune and the weather frowned on me, 
I ground my teeth and headed for the Golden Gate. 

Trailing up Seventh Avenue, I gradually left the busy 
metropolis to my rear and entered a more open country. 
Some urchins of the suburbs tagged behind us meddle- 
somely, and finally a Dutch vixen hit Macaroni with a po- 
tato, almost causing me to leave the saddle. That para- 
dox of asininity chased the potato, and ate it. He, doubt- 
lessly, feared lest the missile might strike him again, and 
decided it best to put it out of the way. 

At 2 P. M. I had crossed McComb's Dam Bridge, and 
at five I crossed another of the same description. It was 
low and narrow, and Mac was so afraid of the water that 
I had to blindfold him to get him across. Shortly after 
occurred our first disaster. 

On nearing a little hamlet that had reached the horse- 
car stage of progress a counterfeit breeze sprang up which 
soon developed into a howling hurricane, as a huge beer 
wagon filled with dragons, or flagons of vile spirits 
wheeled down upon us. They wanted to scare the jack- 
ass, and they did. The wagon wheels got into the car 
tracks, and when the wagon turned out for us the wheels 
slid, and hit my partner in the vicinity of his tail, sprinkling 
us broadcast over a quarter acre of ground. I carried out 
a friend's prediction by traveling some distance on my 
face; I say this without vanity. When I sat upright, I 
saw Macaroni still turning headsprings. My repeating 
rifle stuck in the soft earth erect, dressed in my long-tail 
coat and plug hat, a veritable scarecrow, while the soil 
was well sown with rifle cartridges. 

It took us a half hour to get again under way. With a 

i6 



MADISON SQUARE TO YONKERS 

degree of patience that would have overtaxed Job him- 
self, I collected my belongings, dragged my beast of bur- 
den to Yonkers, and anchored him in front of a hotel. It 
was only eight ; I had thought it nearly morning. 

The genial landlord received me kindly, but said I had 
arrived at a bad season. The town was financially dead, 
the factories had shut down, and a thousand stomachs 
were empty. I corrected him ; there were a thousand and 
one, and, ascertaining the shortest route to the dining- 
room, I gave him proof that I was right. 

After supper I felt in good spirits. I had sold sufficient 
chromos on the way from Harlem to land here with five 
dollars in pocket, and soon after my arrival, one man 
bought all the pictures I had left, seven of them, for which 
he paid two dollars. So, although weary in body, I re- 
tired that Saturday night with some sense of relief in 
knowing I possessed the funds to keep myself and part- 
ner over the Sabbath. 

A general inspection of my donkey next morning re- 
vealed the fact that he was badly "stove up," and the 
probability that I would be detained in consequence sev- 
eral days. If I ever had the blues, I had them then. A 
veterinary. Dr. Skitt, was summoned; he bandaged two 
legs, covered twenty square inches of donkey with court- 
plaster, and strapped a new boot on the animal's off fore 
leg. On returning to the hotel, I notified the landlord that 
I should be his guest very likely several days on account of 
my steed's crippled condition ; I said I proposed to give 
a lecture Tuesday evening to defray my extra expense, 
and asked him if I could have the dining room for the 
purpose. 

"Can you fill the hall ?" asked the proprietor. 

''Full as a kit of mackerel." 

17 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK " 

"But I have only a hundred chairs," he apologized. 

"Hire two hundred of an undertaker," I suggested, 
"and I will defray all other expenses of the funeral." 

It was a go. I then worded a handbill and hurried with 
it to a printer. 



i8 



CHAPTER 11. 

I sow all sorts of seeds, and get no great 
harvest from any of them. I'm cursed with 
susceptibiHty in every direction, and effective 
faculty in none. 

— Mill on the Floss. 

A shower of paper flakes fell upon the amazed citizens 
of Yonkers like an unseasonable snow-storm, and every 
flake contained the announcement : 

TO-NIGHT! TO-NIGHT! TO-NIGHT! 

G HOUSE DINING-HALL 

Only chance to hear 

The Greatest of Modern Travelers 
PYTHAGORAS POD 

Who left New York without a dollar, to eat his way to San 

Francisco, within one year, 

WILL RELATE 100 HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES 

Lassoing elephants in India ; hunting chamois with sling-shots 
in the Alps ; perils of an ostrich ride through the great African 
desert; and a kangaroo hop across Austraha — THE BIGGEST 
HOP ON RECORD. 



Gleanings from the Press. 

" His stories will make a hyena laugh." — New York Bombast. 

"Pye Pod is nothing more than a cake of sugar boiled down from the syrup of 
Lawrence Stearne, Dean Swift, Cervantes, Artemus Ward, and Josh Billings. — 
Chicago Tornado. 

EVERY MAN AND WOMAN 

who has Thirty cents to throw away, should put one in a Yonkers 
Bank and Twenty-nine in the pocket of the donkey traveler. 



TICKETS, $0.29. TICKETS. TWENTY-NINE CENTS 



YONKBRS APPEAL POWER PRINT 

19 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Even Macaroni lent a hoof, and was led by a boy through 
the streets, bearing a pasteboard sandwich which reached 
from ears to tail. The residents of Mistletoe Avenue 
gazed at the ridiculous spectacle, indignantly at first ; but 
on the return trip they crowded in open door-ways and 
regarded the procession of beast and tagging boys, as 
much as to say, ''We must go and hear the donkey lec- 
ture." 

Macaroni had quite recovered ; his exercise did him 
good. My lecture promised to be a huge success. The 
Tuesday Morning Squib and the Evening Sunrise con- 
tained alluring advertisements of the event sure to punc- 
ture an epoch in my life. 

When the hour arrived, the populace, I was secretly 
informed, with twenty-nine cents in one hand and their 
lives in the other crovv^ded about the hotel and called 
loudly for admittance. 

My hands trembled, my hair throbbed, and my heart 
leaped in the ecstacy that comes with one's first great tri- 
umph, while I stood in the butler's pantry waiting for a 
friend to introduce me — to bid me enter the stage — the 
first stage of lunacy. When I issued forth, I was so ex- 
cited I could not distinguish the audience from so many 
chairs. Having agreed to divide the receipts with my host 
for the use of his house, my visions of wealth got con- 
fused with my words, and I talked for an hour with all 
the eloquence and enthusiasm I could muster, — though I 
should have said less to a smaller house, — and with a sore 
throat retired to the refreshment room, followed by my 
press agent from Brooklyn. The "Doctor" handed me 
just twenty -nine cents. My audience had consisted of 
three persons : the landlord, the head-waiter, and the Dago 
printer whom I owed three dollars. 

Reverses are like children's diseases. If they come too 

20 



DONKEY'S MANY AILMENTS. 

late in life, they go hard with us; and if too early, they 
may visit us again. 

I was not totally bankrupt. Not willing to begin a 
"three ball" business at the very outset, I resolved to rise 
at dawn and sell enough chromos to that unappreciative 
community to pay my bills, if I had to sell them at cost. I 
set to work. By one o'clock I had visited every shop, store, 
and Chinese laundry, and was talking hoarsely to a corner 
grocer who, seated on a keg of mackerel, sampling lim- 
burger cheese, grinned with satisfaction at his fortified po- 
sition and swore like a skipper. I offered a picture for 
fifteen cents, but the reduction in price did not disturb his 
physical equilibrium. 

"I vant not a peakture at any price," he affirmed. 

"I lack fifteen cents of the amount of my hotel bill," I 
urged ; "I am in dire straits." 

His reply was weak, but the cheese was strong enough 
to help him out. My mental magazine had but a single 
charge left, and I fired it. "Isn't it worth fifteen cents to 
know a fool when you see one ?" 

"Ye-e-es, I dink it ess," answered Sweitzer Edam, "and 
eef you vill write it on the peakture I'll buy it." I made the 
sale. 

Then after calling on the Mayor, who received me cor- 
dially, swapped autographs, and asked to see my partner, 
I saddled my animal and led him to the hotel for my 
traps. 

"You aren't going before dinner?" the proprietor asked; 
"it's ready now." 

"I'm flat broke — can't afford to eat," I returned sadly. 

"Then come in and have a meal on me," said he. "A 
man who has worked as you have to square with his land- 
lord shan't leave my hotel hungry." I yielded. 

My trip to Tarrytown was accomplished on my own 



21 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

legs. Macaroni refused to budge unless somebody led him. 
The whole town turned out to see us ; it was an event 
for the hotel. That evening I was asked to McCarty's 
Show, at the Theatre, paying thirty-five cents admission ; I 
learned that the ''Dutch treat" was in vogue when too late 
for my pride to let me decline the invitation. Next day, 
at noon, I set out for Sing Sing, now called Ossining, 
about seven miles away. 

My steed, that was really not half a steed, seemed to 
be gradually recovering from the doubt that an endless 
journey had been mapped out for him, and kept me watch- 
ing and prodding him constantly. On one occasion he 
drove through a gap in a fence; on another, he scraped 
through a hedge and relieved himself of my Winchester, 
coat and saddle-bags, for which he immediately expressed 
regret. At length, he balked ; and I sat down by the road- 
side a half hour before he showed readiness to go. 

While there meditating upon my trials, a pedestrian 
stopped and listened to my sixteen complaints. He 
seemed much amused, and suggested that if I would hang 
a penny before the donkey's nose he might follow the 
cent. A practical idea at once came to mind, and when, 
soon afterward, we reached a farm house, I put my idea 
to the test. I purchased some apples, and suspended one 
from a bough secured to the saddle and reaching over the 
donkey's head. The scheme worked admirably. Mac 
pursued the bobbing, swinging fruit at such a speed that 
he was nearly winded when we reached town, having 
manipulated his short legs to the velocity of two and one- 
third miles an hour. 

We reached town shortly after five. The village is 
nicely situated high on the banks of the Hudson, and some 
of its residents have a beautiful view of the river, while 
others see nothing more picturesque than a stone wall. 

22 



DONKEY'S MANY AILMENTS. 

Sing Sing, to use the more familiar name, is the seat of an 
extensive prison, patronized by sojourners from all parts 
of the world and heavily endowed, being backed by the 
wealth of the State. 

A local organization, the Sing Sing Steamer Company, 
invited me to its monthly dinner that evening, and, to my 
surprise and gratitude, purchased with a sealed envelope^ 
one of ''our" pictures for the club rooms. I don't think it 
a good custom to buy a pig in a poke, but this time the pig 
was fat and healthy, and I found myself several dollars 
richer. 

Next morning I bought a revolver, for, as I had to em- 
ploy the larger part of the day in making sales and work- 
ing my wits in a multitude of ways to keep my ship from 
stranding and the crew from starving, I was often 
compelled to travel long into the night and required 
some more handy weapon than a rifle for defence against 
pirates. 

The newspapers generally heralded my coming, often 
greatly magnifying my successes, and I felt that the hard 
times, which the country at large was suffering, made 
such a thing as a hold-up not only possible but imminent 
any night. 

Having received an invitation to visit the State Prison, 
I set out in the forenoon to find it, and a policeman (a 
very proper person, by the way), guided me to that fa- 
mous hostelry. Macaroni also was invited, but the af- 
frighted animal declined to enter the prison gates. 
Whether he thought he saw a drove of zebras, or was re- 
pelled by a guilty conscience, I know not, but, falling back 
in a sitting posture, he threw his ears forward and brayed 
loudly. 

On entering the office, the secretary rose from his chair 
and seized me. "Professor," he said, "you are my pris- 

23 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

oner for an hour ; come this way and I will present you to 
the warden." 

We left the room and walked over to that official's desk. 

*'Mr. Warden," said the secretary, "Allow me to intro- 
duce Professor Pythagoras Pod, the illustrious donkey- 
traveler, who is eating his way across the continent." 

*'Show the gentleman to the dining-room, and give him 
a plate of soup," said the warden hospitably ; then, squeez- 
ing my fingers, he waived me to the chief keeper of the 
prison. The warden noted my hesitancy in leaving, and 
asked if there was anything in particular he could do for 
me. 

"Will you allow me to sit in the electric chair?" I 
asked. 

"Ye-e-es," he replied politely, but apparently startled, 
"although I consider you are already having capital pun- 
ishment for your asinine undertaking;" and turning to 
the keeper, he said, "Give him fifty thousand volts ; noth- 
ing less will phase a man of his nerve." I thanked him. 

With faltering step I entered the solemncholy chamber. 
A colored prisoner was to follow me a day later. Little 
he knew that he would sit in the same chair Pod sat in 
the previous day. The keeper said everything was in readi- 
ness for turning on the current that has the power to drift a 
soul from this world to another in the twinkling of an eye. 
The battery had been thoroughly tested, — and detested, 
too. In less than thirty seconds from the time an ordi- 
nary prisoner enters a door of this world he enters the door 
of another ; but. Pod, being a man of extraordinary nerve, 
walked out the door he entered. When I climbed into that 
terrible chair, I held my breath. The keeper said it re- 
quired only a certain number of volts to kill a man ; that 
fifty thousand, such as the warden had suggested for my 
pleasure, w^ould not so much as singe a hair of my head. 

24 



DONKEY'S MANY AILMENTS. 

If I survived the first shock, I would have something to 
boast ; as it would be abusing a confidence to describe the 
sensations of electrocution, I must not do so. 

On returning to the office the warden congratulated me, 
and said I had earned my freedom. He even presented 
me a plaster of Paris ornament, — made by a prisoner 
who had never seen Paris, — and a package of prison-made 
tobacco, which I might chew, or eschew, as I liked. While 
I appreciated these gifts, how much more I should have 
valued a battery of electrical currents to administer to my 
donkey. 

Crowds assembled to view our exit from town at two 
o'clock. We reached Croton, some six miles beyond, 
about dusk. As we approached the bridge crossing of the 
Croton River, I saw a duck and thought I would test my 
marksmanship with a revolver. My drowsy steed had 
nearly reached the center of the bridge when I banged at 
the innocent hell-diver. A compound disaster followed 
the shot as the frightened jackass shied to the left and 
dashed through the iron frame-work, tail over ears into 
the river, scraping me out of the saddle, but dropping me, 
fortunately, on the bridge. I managed, however, to get 
the duck; the donk got the ducking. It was a marvel 
that he didn't drown; from the way he brayed, I judged 
he was of the same opinion. 

Long after dark we arrived in Peekskill. Throughout 
the day the weather was threatening, and I tramped the 
last three miles in the rain. I had donned my mackintosh 
and slung my overcoat across the saddle, and was pacing 
ahead of Mac, with reins in hand, coaxing the stubborn 
beast on, when suddenly he jumped. I turned just in 
time to discover in the darkness two men, one of whom 
was suspiciously near to the donkey. I told them civilly to 
walk ahead, as they excited my animal. 

25 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"That's none of our business," one of them remarked ; 
"we'll walk where we d d please." 

"Not this time," I said, as I got the drop on them with 
my new shooting-iron ; and I marched the ruffians into 
town. The sneaks probably wanted my overcoat. Before 
we were fairly in town I dismissed them, and advised 
them thereafter to cultivate civility toward travelers. 

It was Friday night. I called upon the Mayor, and en- 
gaged the Town Hall for a lecture, resolved to try my 
luck again in that line. Alas ! my second reverse ! This 
time it was a too impromptu affair. 

Sunday I rested, but Monday, when everything augured 
bright for the week, I was shocked to find Macaroni ill. 
At once I summoned a doctor, a dentist, and a veterinary 
surgeon for a consultation, and breathlessly awaited the 
verdict. 

"Your jackass has a complication of diseases," said the 
vet ; "among them influenza, bots, and hives." 

"He has the measles," pronounced the doctor. 

"He is teething," insisted the dentist. 

This was too much ; with a troubled brow and an empty 
stomach I went to breakfast, and left the doctors to fight 
it out. 



26 ! 



CHAPTER III. 

Little drops of water, 

Little grains of dirt, 
Make the roads so muddy 

Donk won't take a spurt. 

— Dogeared Doggerels — Pod. 

Never before had I encountered such a disagreeable 
road. While I tramped over the highlands from Peeks- 
kill to Fishkill Landing, Macaroni barely crawled. He 
kept me constantly in the fear that he would lie down and 
roll, and finally he did so, selecting a mud puddle. I was 
told donkeys fairly dote on dust, and that a roll will in- 
vigorate them more than will a measure of grain. But 
mine was different to other donkeys. 

Before leaving Peekskill, Dr. Shook said Mac showed 
symptoms of mud fever, although the tendency lay 
strongly toward phlebitus, farcy, and poll-evil. He even 
warned me that I might expect epizootic to set in any day. 

To urge Mac on to Newburgh in one day necessitated 
my start, at day-break. We reached the Fishkill ferry at 
half-past eight, covering the twenty-mile journey in fif- 
teen hours. The highland road was rough where the mud 
had dried. Steep and rocky summits stood out, bold and 
barren, save where occasional bunches of young cedars 
huddled among the denuded trees. 

Finally I saw a small structure, through whose open 
windows could be heard a chorus of youthful voices in- 
toning. ''The — dog — caught — the — pig — by — the — yer." 
It was a school house. I remembered that song of my 

27 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

boyhood; I thought it would be interesting to drop in, 
and forthwith rapped on the door. Meanwhile, Mac stuck 
his head in the window, causing a deafening chime of 
cries within. A painful silence followed. I waited pa- 
tiently for admittance; then I opened the door. The 
room was deserted, the exit at the opposite end wide open, 
I crossed the floor and looked out to discover the teacher 
and two dozen young ones scurrying up the mountain 
through the scant woods. I called to them, but they ran 
the faster. Wonder what they thought they saw ? 

With every mile's advance we penetrated more deeply 
the mountain wilderness. Before long Macaroni began 
to slow up. Again I had recourse to the scheme of sus- 
pending an apple over his head. The beast increased his 
speed at once, making a lunge at the unobtainable, and 
chasing it with rapid stride. He evidently had never read 
the story about the boy who pursued a rainbow, and un- 
like that boy, was stupid enough to be fooled twice. A 
few miles beyond I answered some inquiries of a woman 
out driving, and sold her a photo. I had no sooner 
stopped with the article in hand than I was startled with 
the sound of gagging behind, and turning, I beheld the 
donkey wrenching in the throes of strangulation. Hav- 
ing lowered the apple to the ground, he had swallowed it, 
together with the string and half the bough. I with- 
drew the ''intrusions" with difficulty, and returned to the 
woman who had fainted. I had no restoratives ; but I had 
once resuscitated a Jew with a novel expedient, and de- 
termined to try the same plan in this case. 

''These pictures are fifteen cents each, although I some- 
times get twenty-five for one," I said somewhat forcibly ; 
"don't trouble yourself, madam, trust me with your 
pocket-book, I will — ." At once the woman awoke, and 
counting out the lesser amount mentioned, pulled on the 

28 



POLISHING SHOES AT VASSAR. 

reins and drove away. Let me grasp the hand of that 
man who can beat a woman at a bargain ! 

When passing through Cold Spring, I was startled by 
the booming of cannon at West Point, just across the 
river. I had not expected such honors. So overawed 
was I by the salute that I forgot to count the guns, but 
presume there were twenty-one. Far above and behind 
the group of academic buildings still frowned old Fort 
Putnam, deploring its shameful neglect, and casting 
envious glances at the modern Observatory below and the 
newer buildings lower down. Every mile of the beautiful 
Hudson recalled to mind happy memories of my own 
school days, which made my present ordeal doubly dis- 
tressing. 

When night lowered her sombre shades, my thoughts 
took flight to more distant scenes. My heart and brain 
grew weary, and I forgot for a time that my bones were 
lame and my feet sore from walking, walking, walking 
on an endless journey, with no perceptible evidence of ap- 
proaching nearer to the goal. At length, the Albany 
night boat steamed past us, its myriad lights dancing on 
the ruffled waters, or revealing a jolly group of passen- 
gers on deck. The air was painfully quiet; and when the 
song, '*Oh, Where is My Wandering Boy To-night," 
floated over to me in answer to Macaroni's bray, I found 
consolation in the thought that perhaps some of the tour- 
ists recognized my outfit in the dark, and pitied me. 

I had by this time discovered mountain climbing to be 
a donkey's leading card. He may loiter on the flat, but 
he will make you hump when it comes to steep ascents. 
The night was mild for that season of the year, and be- 
coming considerably heated, I doffed my overcoat and 
spread it over the saddle on my mackintosh. When we 
were descending the hill on the other side, I dismounted 

29 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

and led Mac with the bridle reins, but kept a good watch 
on the coats. After a while, however, I became so ab- 
sorbed in thought that I neglected my duty, and, finally, 
when I did turn to inspect them they were missing. It 
gave me the worst fright I had experienced since leaving 
New York. 

Staking Mac to a gooseberry bush, I immediately re- 
traced my steps a mile or more through an Egyptian dark- 
ness before I found the garments lying securely in the 
mud. On my return to the bush I was alarmed not to find 
the donkey. That ^'phenomenon" had eaten that prickly 
shrub to the roots and fled either down the road to Fishkill 
or through the woods. I started out for town on a run. 
Imagine my astonishment to find Mac patiently standing in 
front of the ferry. The boat had landed her passengers ; 
and had the donkey not taken the precaution to anticipate 
me, we should have had to remain on that side of the 
river for the night. As it was, the ferry waited for Mac's 
rider — thanks to the considerate pilot. 

Newburgh ! I recognized her by her streets at an angle 
of 45 degrees. Mac took to the place hugely. I stopped 
at a small combination hotel and restaurant, where roast 
turkey and pumpkin pie decorated the windows, and made 
arrangements for the night. 

When about to leave, I was visited by a delegation from 
the local militia who, for a fair consideration, induced us 
both to remain over and referee a game of basket ball 
that evening at the armory. Mac did not accept very 
gracefully, and had to be coerced. What I knew about 
the game wouldn't tax a baby's mind, but that didn't mat- 
ter. It proved to be an event for the regiment, for Pod, 
and for Macaroni. 

Next day I found my donkey's maladies increasing. 
They had already tripled in number since leaving Peeks- 

30 



POLISHING SHOES AT VASSAR. 

kill; and, to think, I had arrived at Newburg just two 
days too late to secure a sound animal. 

I pushed on to Poughkeepsie. 

Upon arriving at that university city I was pleased to 
find the inhabitants not quite so slow as the appearance 
of the place would indicate. The city has of late years 
become the Henley of America. It is the seat of East- 
man's business college, as well as a very progressive col- 
lege for girls — Vassar. The residents generally drop 
three letters in spelling the name of their proud city, and 
make it Po'keepsie. There were four good points I liked 
about the place, and that was one of them ; the other three 
were, the Mayor, the Vassar girls, and a newspaper re- 
porter who, for a consideration, engaged Mac and me to 
appear at the theatre in an amateur play. 

It was to be a new stage in our travels. The urchin 
who led the donkey about the streets proudly bore in one 
hand a standard inscribed : "KEEP YOUR EYES ON 
THE DONKEY ;" and those who obeyed saw printed on 
a canvas blanket gracefully draped over Mac's back the 
startling announcement : "WILL APPEAR TO-NIGHT 
IN HOGAN'S ALLEY, AT KIRCHNER'S HALL." 
I believe Mac paraded the city utterly oblivious of the 
interest he created. 

I had promised to have my donkey at the Hall at five 
sharp. There were two staircases for him to climb, and 
I had not contemplated the enormity of the task before 
me. We tugged on his halter ; we set three dogs barking 
at his heels ; but the only time he stirred was when he re- 
moved the dogs. He just braced himself well against the 
curb, and brayed until he had called the audience to the 
show two hours ahead of time. After a while two strong 
policemen took a hand with me in a three-handed game, 
and turned over a jack. Finally, four more men assisting, 

31 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the beast was carried upstairs and into the theatre, where 
he was forced to walk a plank on to the stage. Then I 
fed and watered him, and combing his fur the right way, 
left him to the melancholy contemplation of his position. 

When we returned an hour later, he was still as im- 
movable as a statue. The stage manager directed me to 
ride the donkey out from behind the scenery at a given 
signal ; so I began to practice with him. I cannot describe 
all that happened the next hour. By seven o'clock Mac 
was fairly broken, and everything looked promising. 

The house was crowded ; only a portion of the attend- 
ance of the fair held in connection with the play, down 
stairs, could find seats ; and the performance was to be 
repeated. One part of the play, however, not on the pro- 
gram, could not be reproduced. Apparently no attempts 
had ever been made to convert Mac to religion, for when 
the Salvation Army entered the scene, banging drums and 
clashing cymbals, the terrified jack began to back toward 
the footlights. The stage manager, fearing lest the beast 
might back off the stage, dropped the curtain. But that 
didn't check Mac ; he backed against the curtain and un- 
der it, and dropped plumb into the audience, making five 
"laps" in a second, his best time to date. One fat man, 
over-burdened, crashed through his chair. Fortunately 
nobody was seriously injured, but several had spasms, and 
more than one girl crawled over the backs of the seats in 
terror. "Such doings," as a paper stated next day, "were 
never known before in this town in the annals of donkeys 
— four-legged or two-legged either." 

As soon as the excitement was over, Mac was assisted 
on to the stage, and the play was twice repeated, all three 
performances before crowded houses. 

While returning Mac to his stable I heard the bray of 
a donkey, and resolved next day to look him up. Then I 

32 



POLISHING SHOES AT VASSAR. 

sent a message to a young lady friend at Vassar, and 
wrote my weekly story for the papers. 

I frequently refer to my Vassar friends, but I doubt if 
they ever mention me. I had written one that I would 
polish two dozen pairs of Vassar shoes at the rate of fifty 
cents a pair, either on, or off. Allowing me two minutes 
for each pair and half a minute for making change, I be- 
lieved I could polish to the queen's taste some forty-eight 
pairs in two hours. My proposal was accepted. The 
hour set was 5 :oo A. M., while the teachers would be 
dreaming about the binomial formula, blue light, and 
turnips. And I was expected to polish the shoes on the 
foot. 

Accordingly, I was aroused from slumber at four, and 
practiced on the stove legs for a full half-hour, to get 
polishing down to a science. Then I took the trolley car 
to the hedge fence, stole in through the stately gate, and 
took the time of the huge clock above the entrance. Then 
I took my own time. I had four minutes to spare, and 
knew Vassar girls were anything but slow. 

'The days of chivalry are not gone," says George Eliot, 
"notwithstanding Burke's grand dirge over them; they 
live still in that far-off worship paid by many a youth 
and man to the woman of whom he never dreams that he 
shall touch so much as her little finger or the hem of her 
robe." I had no sooner placed my chair at the right 
marble staircase than I heard the rustle of skirts, imme- 
diately followed by a bevy of charming girls stealing 
down the steps on tip-toe, all a-giggle and a-smile, bal- 
ancing their supple forms with outstretched arms, and 
enlivening the early dawn with the mischief beaming from 
their eyes. "Good morning," they said, as each in turn 
shook hands with me. I was inspired to hug every one 
of them, but dared not show the lack of polish. 

33 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Raising my hat, I said softly, "Shine," and number one 
mounted the throne, soon to be ''daubed" a queen. Bless 
me ! wasn't she pretty ! As she gaily lifted her skirts to 
give my brushes a free swing, a perfect pair of ankles 
burst into view, daintily imprisoned in black silk hose, 
and — well, I naturally was excited. Blacking flew like 
the mud did when the beer wagon bumped against Mac, 
and a brush flopped out of my hand through a colored 
window, letting in more light, for it was still quite dusky. 
It seemed to be impossible for the young lady to keep her 
feet in place on the block, and not until she suggested I 
should hold her boot in place did I begin to polish to my 
credit. After that no girl could keep her feet stationary 
unless I held her foot with one hand and polished with 
the other. "Next," and another winsome creature took 
the chair, and poured fifty pennies into my hand. I took 
it for granted that she was some copper king's daughter. 

I worked so hard that I was soon perspiring. After 
finishing a dozen pair, when about to polish the second 
shoe on number thirteen, someone claimed she heard a 
professor reading Volapuk. At once there was a scurry, 
and a rustle of skirts. Number thirteen kicked over the 
blacking accidental, and fled with one shoe unpolished ; but 
that odd shoe did just as good service as any of the rest. 
The whole bevy of girls vanished before I had time to 
collect my senses, my chair, and my brushes, and chase 
myself away. When once started, I ran to beat the cars, 
and reached the hotel in time for breakfast, the richer by 
six dollars and a lace handkerchief. 

Come to think of it, what an extr'ordinary adventure 
that was for a modest and dignified traveler with a 
donkey! I wondered, as I sipped my coffee, what the 
Principal said when she discovered so many neat-looking 
shoes. 

34 



CHAPTER IV. 

Shame on the world ! said I to myself. Did we but 
love each other as this poor soul loved his ass, 'twould 
be something. 

— Sentimental Journey — Stearne. 

An empty heart is like an empty barrel conveniently 
located ; nobody will dare to gamble on the first thing to 
be thrown into it : and a full heart, like a barrel of fruit, 
must be sorted frequently, lest a bit of blemish corrupt 
the whole. 

My heart was as full of Macaroni from New York to 
Po'keepsie as my stomach once had been from Milan to 
Naples. I first fancied my donkey, next admired him, 
suddenly became conscious of a growing contempt for 
him, and finally pity, now that the time for parting with 
him had come. Having depended entirely upon the stupid 
beast for companionship, he really had become a pet. 
Often he had offended and vexed me beyond seeming 
pardon ; on the other hand, he had afforded me amusement 
during my lonesome hours, often causing me to laugh out- 
right at his antics. But, in order to complete my journey 
on time, I felt I must avail myself of the first opportun- 
ity to exchange him for a livelier steed. It was my 
Vassar friend who told me about Dr. Jackson and his 
precocious donkey ; she claimed the animal often displayed 
human intelligence. 

With some difficulty I found the doctor's residence ; 
when, introducing myself and acquainting him with my 
errand, he put on his hat and took me to the barn. Be- 

35 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

hold ! the cutest Httle donkey I ever saw. He was a sleek, 
slender creature of blush color, with an intelligent but 
roguish countenance, and with cropped ears which gave 
him a semblance to a deer. The doctor said the animal 
was hardly three years old. His hoofs were very small, 
so tiny that he might have stepped into an after-dinner 
cup and not damaged more than your appetite for coffee. 

''What do you call the little fellow?" I asked. 

"Mac A'Rony," said the doctor. 

The coincidence made me smile. "That, too, is my 
donkey's name," I declared, somewhat to his astonish- 
ment. He then spelled his animal's name, showing that 
there was as much difference between the names as be- 
tween the donkeys, between patrician and plebeian. He 
said that Mac A'Rony was the lineal descendant of an 
ancient and honorable family of Irish asses ; whereas, I 
believed Macaroni could boast of no more distinguished 
heritage than that of Italian peasantry. The doctor even 
harbored the suspicion that his donkey must be a descend- 
ant of Balaam's famous ass. 

"His bluish coat is a reflection of the blue blood in his 
veins," observed the doctor; and I was made to feel of 
the same opinion. 

I coveted that donkey, but had little hope of securing it, 
as my means were so limited. Imagine my astonishment* 
when the doctor proposed that we make an even ex- 
change of animals. 

"If your overland journey continues to be as notable as 
it is thus far," said he, "I should like to possess the first 
donkey you used." 

I dared not believe my ears. 

'But you have not seen m.y donkey," I reminded him. 
1 will accept your representation of the animal," he 
replied. The bargain made, we parted. An hour later 

36 



"] 



AN EVEN TRADE NO ROBBERY 

Macaroni was in the doctor's barn, and Mac A'Rony in 
the livery stable. The greatest objection I had to my 
new companion was his youth. The fastidious appetite of 
this Irish gentleman demanded bread, and other table 
fare ; he actually stuck up his nose at oats and hay. What 
would he do should we get stranded! I might live a 
whole day on three milk punches which I could pay for 
with photos, but experience had taught me it required 
many punches to keep a donkey moving. 

When about to depart, I was disconcerted to discover 
the doctor's boy riding his new possession down the street 
toward the hotel. Macaroni seemed to realize we were to 
part forever. There was a sad, depressed look in his 
eyes ; his brows knitted, and his nose wept, as he brayed 
"When shall we three meet again." I felt a pang in my 
heart, and turning my eyes from him, headed Mac 
A'Rony for the West. 

Shortly afterward, I was stopped by a blacksmith who 
recognized Mac and asked to shoe him, saying he would 
do it for a picture, seeing it was I. Of course, I was de- 
lighted, and leaving the donkey in his custody, dropped in 
a restaurant and lunched; after which I bought Mac a 
loaf of graham bread. 

The kind-hearted blacksmith had several horses wait- 
ing to be shod, and it was nearly night when Mac A'Rony 
ceased to be a *'bare-foot boy." I remained in Po'keepsie 
over night, and early next day, Friday, set out for Kings- 
ton. But that quadruped traveled so fast that he tired out 
after going a few miles, and I had to put up at a little inn 
at Staatsburg for the night. Had it not been that I sold 
next day a number of photos at princely villas on the way, 
I should have had trouble to keep from starving. No re- 
mittance had come from the papers as yet, and lecturing 
was out of the question at that time. I had written to 

37 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

several soap, sarsaparilla, tobacco and pill companies for 
a contract to advertise their stuffs by distributing cir- 
culars, or samples, or displaying a sign from my donkey's 
back, but thus far had received no favorable replies. 

At length the blue summits of the Catskills loomed 
against an azure sky in the west, and I caught occasional 
glimpses of Kingston and Rondout, the twin cities, nest- 
ling in the foothills by the Hudson. 

At three o'clock we crossed the ferry, and soon after- 
ward arrived at the Mansion House, Kingston. The 
landlord received us with gracious hospitality, but I, hav- 
ing lost so much time by accident and other misfortune, 
only tarried for the night, and hastened on up the valley. 

The days were perceptibly shorter while we traveled in 
the shadow of the Catskills. The roads were so heavy, 
and the recent cold I had contracted so stiff and uncom- 
fortable, that I decided at seven o'clock to spend the night 
at a German road-house. Landlord Schoentag gave us 
soft beds, in spite of his hard name, and his spouse was 
kind enough to make me a hot brandy and a foot bath. I 
drank the one; Mac cheated me of the other. I retired 
early under a pile of bedding as thick as it was short, and 
soon found myself in a terrible sweat. This was not due 
alone to the comfortables, but to a party of convivial 
young people, who thrummed on a discordant piano, and 
. sang, and danced till daylight, their hilarity causing Mac 
in the stable sundry vocal selections, such as should have 
disturbed the spirit of Rip Van Winkle, eight miles away. 

Monday we pushed on toward Saugerties. But for a 
delay at Soaper's Creek Bridge, we should have reached 
Catskill before dark. MacA'Rony stopped stock still at the 
bridge approach, and neither the eloquence of gad nor 
gab moved him an inch. I petted him and patted him; 

38 



AN EVEN TRADE NO ROBBERY 

I stroked his ears and I rubbed his nose ; and then I asked 
him point blank what ailed him. 

"You big fool, can't you see that sign up there?" he 
retorted, as he eyed me squarely. It was fully sixty sec- 
onds before I realized that the animal had actually spoken ; 
then I looked up and read the sign hanging from the iron 
girder overhead, "Ten dollars fine for riding or drivings 
over this bridge faster than a walk." I must say I greatly 
appreciated Mac's consideration for my pocket-book, but 
his obduracy struck me as being not a little absurd, since 
he had not yet demonstrated to me that he could go faster 
than a walk, even on a level and unimpeded road. All I 
could do was to sit down on a stone and, like Macawber, 
wait for something to turn up. It seemed ages before a 
farmer came along with a ton of hay ; he was kind enough 
to slide off the load and assist me to carry the donkey 
across the bridge. 

The night was spent in Catskill. Smith's Hotel was 
swarming with busy grangers, generally good-hearted, 
garrulous characters, whose society lightened the tedium 
of two days, while I nursed my cold and weaned Mac. 
We reached Athens, a village eight miles to the north, 
Wednesday noon, but being somewhat rusty in Greek, I 
ferried the river to Hudson. A light snow had fallen ; the 
wind was sharp shod, and traveled forty miles an hour. 

A small German hotel opened its doors to us, and I per- 
suaded Mac to ascend the low stoop and venture half his 
length indoors; the landlord aided me at the helm and 
we managed to anchor my "craft" out of range of the 
storm, though we couldn't get it across the bar. Mac lay 
down in a heap, and I called for port, to find none in stock. 
Suddenly, a man in shirt sleeves hastily entered with a 
pitcher in hand, and before he could check himself, went 
sprawling over the frightened beast, smashing the pitcher 

39 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

and setting Mac to braying. The man hurriedly collected 
himself, glanced at the strange-looking quadruped, and 
not stopping for beer, fled in dismay. When the storm 
had abated somewhat, we started for Kinderhook. 

Late in the afternoon we trailed into a thrifty little 
town where I found stock port in Stockport. Here the 
cheery aspect of the Brookside Hotel tempted me to re- 
main over night, and doctor the severe cold in my chest. 
This tavern, the pride of the village, was said to be the 
oldest on the old ''post road" from New York to Albany. 
So comfortable was the hotel that I hesitated long before 
accepting a cordial invitation, extended to me through 
his coachman, to be the guest of the wealthiest resident 
of the town. I was driven over to the home of Mr. Van 

, and the affable gentleman introduced me to his 

family, before driving me to his father's residence. The 
old gentleman was enthusiastic in his reception of the 
donkey traveler, and after doping me with some delicious 
cider, reluctantly allowed his son to keep me for the night. 

After a month of ''roughing it," my happy affiliation 
with those refined and cultured people acted like a healing 
balm to my wearied heart. Many and many a time there- 
after on the tiresome, lonesome trail did my memory re- 
call that pleasant evening. The daughters entertained me 
with music and song, the parents brought out refresh- 
ments, and, at last, with a hot foot-bath, and a hotter mus- 
tard leaf on my chest, I retired. 

Next morning, Georgie, the little son, rushed into my 
chamber calling, "Get up, you people, the pancakes are 
getting cold!" 

"All right," I answered meekly. 

"Oh !" the little fellow gasped with astonishment, as he 
beheld Pod tucked neck-deep in eider-down. "I — I — I 
thought you was the girls." 

40 




"JVc consumed a half hour in the gigantic task." 




"I found the captive drinking with other jackasses.' 



AN EVEN TRADE NO ROBBERY 

The boy had retired early the evening before, quite ig- 
norant of the fact that the eccentric traveler was delegated 
to snooze in his sisters' bedroom. 

Through the happy agency of conversation Mr. Van 

and I discovered a mutual friendship. The family, 

somewhat to my embarrassment, insisted upon purchasing 
pictures galore, and after breakfast and a little music in 
the glow of a blazing fireplace, I donned my overcoat and 
made my adieux. 

How chill and heartless that December morning was ! 
The wind blew my plug hat off to begin with, and, as I 
was driven to the Brookside Inn, had the courage to try to 
freeze my face. A half hour later Mac and Pod were 
marching to Kinderhook. 



41 



CHAPTER V. 

Of all conceivable journeys, this promised to be 
the most tedious. I tried to tell myself it was a lovely 
day; I tried to charm my foreboding spirit with to- 
bacco; but I had a vision ever present to me of the 
long, long roads, up hill and down dale, and a pair of 
figures ever infinitesimally moving, foot by foot, a 
yard to the minute, and, like things enchanted in a 
nightmare, approaching no nearer to the goal, 

— Travels with a Donkey — R. L. Stevenson. 

Kinderhook ! I promised myself to visit the seminary, 
so popular in the early '6o's, and commune with the spir- 
its of those charming old-fashioned girls of whom m.other 
had often spoken. 

After dining at the Kinderhook Hotel, I looked it up, 
and found it to be then the village academy. 

The cold in my chest pained more than ever ; I began to 
fear pneumonia. The landlord's wife said she would be 
a mother to me. Whew ! If she made it as warm for her 
"old man" as she did for me, I pity and congratulate him 
in one breath. She prepared a mustard sitz-bath (my feet 
had suffered two already) powerful enough, she declared, 
to force cold-blisters on my hair; she slapped mustard 
leaves on my chest and back ; she gave me spirits of cam- 
phor for my lips, witch-hazel for my eyes, a pork bandage 
for my neck, and liberal doses of aconite, quinine, whis- 
key and rum. Then she innocently asked if I could think 
of any other place my cold, when fairly on the run, would 
be likely to settle. Being unable to answer, I called on a 
physician. 

42 



THE DONKEY- ON SKATES 






The landlady has fixed you up admirably," said he; 

I cannot benefit you further, unless I advise you to shave 
oif your hair when the blisters have settled on it, to pre- 
vent the cold's return." 

I expressed my gratitude for his kind assurances, and 
to my surprise, though he had an electric battery in his 
room, he refused to charge me. 

Without loss of time, I set out and walked two miles to 
the old homestead of President Martin Van Buren, that 
stood back from the road behind a group of ancient pines 
which sighed dolefully as I passed. 

The family living there received me kindly, and showed 
me the library, parlors and hall ; the old Dutch wall-paper, 
picturing ancient hunts, watch-towers, and pastoral 
scenes, recalled a pleasant sojourn in Holland. A Wag- 
oner family living in the next house asked me to dinner, 
and I ''et" with them. 

'T once knew a Van Wagoner," I said ; "they were fine 
people." 

**Our family were originally of that name," Mr. Wag- 
oner replied. ''They dropped the Van some time ago." 

Mac A'Rony said he had never heard of Vans being 
dropped from Wagoners, but had often seen wagoners 
dropped from vans. 

I next crossed the bridge spanning the creek just out of 
town, where, it is said, Washington Irving conceived the 
story of the headless horseman. 

President Van Buren gave a ball to some statesmen, 
and Irving was invited. Some wag among the guests 
rigged up a dummy on a horse, and let the animal loose to 
give the author a scare. Wash never lost an opportunity 
to make a good story, and he made use of the idea. 

Mary Ann and Lucretia Van Buren, two aged spinsters, 
were all who remained of the illustrious family. I called 

43 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

on Mary Ann when Lucretia was absent, and won her 
favor so quickly that she presented me with a Uttle oil 
painting which had been in the family over a hundred 
years. 

Close by stood the old brick house, formerly a fort, 
built with brick brought from Holland. One brick was 
carved "1623." I saw the house where General Burgoyne 
is said to have dined, after which I visited Van Buren's 
grave. 

We slept that night in North Chatham, traveling out of 
the direct route to give the weak-kneed donkey as level a 
road as possible. We had now been boon companions one 
week ; it seemed a month. 

Next day, we passed a rickety barn in which two horses 
were engaged at a huge tread-wheel, with the dual object 
of threshing corn-stalks and of keeping their ears warm. 
My ears were almost frozen ; whereas Mac claimed his 
were as warm as toast. My comrade had the advantage 
over me in being able, as he expressed it, to wiggle his 
ears and keep the blood circulating. 

I stopped at a shanty near, and asked leave to warm 
myself, and begged a newspaper to put in my breast. A 
poverty-stricken but hospitable man welcomed me, and 
politely took my hat and stuck it on a pitcher of milk. 
The humble habitation contained two rooms, one store 
room, the other the living room. The latter was furnished 
with a square table, now set for the mid-day meal, two 
beds, a stove which was exerting every effort to boil some 
ancient pork and frozen cabbage to a state of ''doneness," 
four chairs, and a wash-tub. The housewife was washing 
clothes while her ''old man" acted as cook. A dog re- 
clined on the store-room floor watching a saw-horse. 
There was not such bric-a-brac visible ; a five-year-old 
calendar and two or three unframed chromos hung on the 

44 



THE DONKEY ON SKATES 

walls, and when I arose to go I discovered behind me a 
cracked mirror and a comb that needed dentistry. I was 
surprised when the woman handed me the desired paper ; 
I should not have accused any of them of being able to 
read. 

''Wall, yer kin see haow all classes of folks lives eny 
haow," the matron observed, as she screwed her face out 
of shape in her anxiety to wring the last drop of suds out 
of a twisted garment. 

*'Yes," I returned, rising and reaching for my hat, "but 
how my donkey and I can manage to live to reach 'Frisco 
interests me more." And politely declining a hunk of 
pork rind and black bread offered me for a pocket lunch, 
much to the gratification of the house cat, I sallied forth 
into the biting blast, knocked several icicles from Mac 
A'Rony's whiskers, and headed for the state capital. 

Further on we tarried a few moments to exchange a 
word or two with an inquisitive hayseed, who planted him- 
self in the road before us, and stretched forth a brawny 
hand for both of us to shake. 

''Yer th' feller what's goin' to Fran Sanfrisco, hain't 
yer?" the old man questioned, bracing himself against the 
boisterous gale. 

"Yep," I replied laconically. And at once Mac, yield- 
ing to a mighty gust of wind, dashed past the animate ob- 
struction, dragging his master with him. 

"Whar be th' biggest crops this year?" he called after 
us ; and Mac, assuming the question was put to him, 
shouted, "In ostriches. Some of them weigh several 
stone." As I looked back from the hill, I saw the statu- 
esque figure still gaping at us behind a long, frost-colored 
beard. 

The roads to fame and to the capitol are hilly. Fame 
seemed to be more easily reached in slippery weather than 

45 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the capitol in dry. Albany had just experienced a heavy 
rain, and the roads had frozen. We set out Monday morn- 
ing to pay our respects to the Governor, the Mayor and 
other shining Hghts. When half way up the ascent to the 
capitol, Mac A'Rony slipped off his feet and slid to the 
bottom of the hill. Of course, I stayed with him ; in a mo- 
ment we had won fame. The excited populace thronged 
about us, and the reporters hauled out their paper and 
pencils. One toboggan slide satisfied Mac, and I was 
compelled to return him to the stable and go alone. 

The Governor was in his chair of state when I arrived 
at the Executive Chamber. The rumor that the odd trav- 
eler, Pye Pod, was in the ante-chamber brought a smile to 
his lips, which he still wore when he rose to grasp my 
hand, relishing the humor which I had failed to taste. 

''Don't you find it pretty cold traveling these days ?" the 
Governor inquired, as he sat down to write in my auto- 
graph album. 

''Rather," said I. The Governor chuckled, wished me 
good luck on my journey and commended me for my 
pluck. Then I was ushered through the magnificent 
capitol. 

After lunching with an aunt, I visited the Mayor. He, 
like other notable men, received me graciously and wished 
me joy, prosperity and health. 

Tuesday I hustled early and late to earn a dollar above 
the expenses of my sojourn in the up-hill city. Wednesday 
morning I received a small check, the first remittance from 
the papers. It was only two days before Christmas. The 
Holiday season seemed to have absorbed all the money in 
circulation. The snow now lay six inches deep on the 
level ; it had snowed all night and was snowing still. I 
greatly needed a pair of felt boots with rubber overshoes, 
but couldn't afford the outlay. So I wrapped strips of 

46 



THE DONKEY ON SKATES 

gunnysacks round my shoes and trouser legs, bought a 
pair of earlaps, and saddUng my donkey, started for 
Schenectady, seventeen miles away. . 

People had cautioned me that donkeys were afraid of 
snow.' I was most agreeably surprised to find Mac 
A'Rony an exception to the rule; but in another respect, 
he puzzled me very much. For five days he had not been 
known to drink, and I concluded that, like an orchid, he 
slaked his thirst by sucking the juice out of the atmos- 
phere. When I ushered him into the snow, he rubbed his 
nose in it, and tasted it to satisfy himself that it wasn't 
sugar, and then majestically waded through, as if it were 
so much dust. 

And so, with less than two dollars in pocket and some 
fifty photos in my saddle-bags, I urged my donkey 
through the blinding gale to a road-house, four miles out 
of Albany, where tethering him to a huge icicle under a 
low-roofed shed, I went into the tavern to toast my hands 
and feet, and to warm my inner self. 

A few moments later found us fighting the elements 
again. And though we stopped at fully a dozen houses on 
that day's journey, we reached Schenectady soon after 
dark, with my face black and blue from the snowballs Mac 
rolled with his hoofs and slung at me (he claimed, unin- 
tentionally). Both of us were in prime condition to ap- 
preciate a hot supper and a soft, warm bed. After seeing 
my comrade safely sheltered in the hotel barn and leaving 
instructions with the stable-keeper to lock the door, I spent 
a pleasant hour with the other hotel guests, who gathered 
about to hear my story, and to give me all kinds of 
valuable and worthless advice on traveling with a donkey. 

What happened that night may be better understood by 
reading the following page from my diary : 

"It is midnight, halfway between Christmas eve and 

47 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Christmas morning. For the last three hours I have been 
looking all over town for Mac, I went to the stable at 
nine o'clock to fill his stockings, and lo ! he was missing. 
Where he can possibly be and how he got there is beyond 
my power of conception. I found the lock in the barn 
door unbroken, but scratched about the keyhole, as if it 
had been picked. The landlord and the stableman are 
of the opinion that Union College boys have stolen the 
donkey and hidden him, just for mischief. In my rambles 
I failed to detect a sign of any student. A squad of vol- 
unteers from among the hotel guests, armed to the teeth 
and carrying lanterns, were kind enough to go with me 
donkey hunting, but nothing more than a few ominous 
traces of Mac's stubborn resistance did we discover. A 
tuft of donkey hair and a gory human tooth were picked 
off the barn floor, and also, just outside, a section of the 
seat of a man's trousers, all of which indicates that the 
donkey is the unwilling prisoner of a band of wags. 

**Going down Fifth Street to Union, we detected Mac's 
little foot-prints and a college society pin. Just beyond, 
I found another lock of hair, this time human, indicating 
some football fiend had parted with a portion of his mane. 
A torn cravat, a finger of a kid glove, and a piece of hu- 
man flesh resembling part of a nose, were noted by differ- 
ent members of the posse. Thence on, we traced with 
much difficulty my donkey's hoof-marks a mile or more 
into the suburbs, where we lost them. It was then 1 1 130 
P. M. A concensus of opinion resulted in the verdict that 
at that point the animal had been put in a sleigh and 
drawn to some hiding place and that further search that 
night was useless. I am now going to retire, and trust 
to luck for Mac A'Rony's safe return to-morrow." 

When I went to breakfast Christmas morning, I amused 
myself while my order was being filled by perusing the 

48 



THE DONKEY ON SKATES 

Schenectady "Daily Tantrims." You may imagine my 
astonishment upon reading the following: 

GRAND OPENING 

Of the Canal Skating Rink. 

Greatest Social Function of the Season. 

College Boys and Society There. 

A Donkey on Skates. 

''Those who were not iet in' to the private ball given at 
the new Canal Ice Rink on Christmas Eve by the Union 
boys who remained here over night to enjoy the Holi- 
days, missed a rare and novel entertainment. It proved 
to be a side-splitting as well as an ice-breaking affair. 
Carefully laid plans were successfully carried out, and the 
diminutive donkey belonging to the quixotic traveler, 
Prof. Pythagoras Pod, became the guest of honor at the 
first rink party of the season. The jackass seemed to rel- 
ish the sport immensely. Two pairs of skates were se- 
curely buckled on his feet and, declining the proffered as- 
sistance, at once the precocious tyro struck out in four 
several directions at once, coming down on the not over 
thick ice kothump ! on his Antartic pole, deluging four 
propositions of Euclid, seven principles of unnatural phi- 
losophy, and three dozen young men and women. 

All would have gone well had the jack not been so con- 
ceited. He, just like an ass, thought he knew it all. If 
he ever cut any ice in his life he did it them. Being of a 
generous disposition, he made ample accommodations for 
a crowd who, like his asinine self, came out for a skate 
and were hardly prepared for a baptism. 

Pandemonium reigned. There were several narrow es- 
capes from drowning ; even Mac A'Rony barely averted a 
sublime decease, and bellowed like a freight engine. 

49 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

However, as he was the only donkey of the whole party 
that piloted himself to terra firma without assistance, he 
deserves much more praise than the fools that were so un- 
warrantably thoughtless as to imperil a hundred precious 
lives in their selfishness to have a good time at the ex- 
pense of an humble beast. 

As soon as the panic had subsided, a new rink was 
cleared further down the canal, where the Christmas fete 
was prolonged to a late hour. The terrified animal was 
here supported on two parallel bars held by strong men ; 
and he promised to remain upright henceforth. To say 
the least, his frantic efforts to do the "pigeon wing" on 
the star-spangled firmament nearly capsized his pall-bear- 
ers. Guards had been posted at various points to apprise 
the practical jokers, if the donkey's master should come 
uninvited on the scene, but it seems that, by crafty, foxy 
methods, the Professor had been led by false scent to the 
suburbs. So the fun continued. 

After the ball was over, Mac A'Rony was returned in 
safety to his stall. The little fellow appeared to be the 
nimbler from his cold-water plunge, and was so elated 
over his extraordinary exploits that he brayed all the way 
to his quarters." 

As soon as I heard Mac I rushed out to the barn bare- 
headed, and threw my arms round his neck. I found 
the little fellow joyously rummaging in four huge stock- 
ings filled with corn bread, molasses cake, mince pie, car- 
rots, and apple-sauce. *T had a h — 1 of a time last night," 
was all he said. 



50 



CHAPTER VI. 

Christmas day is a merry day : 

For all good lads and lassies, 
But dull and lorn for th' fellow born 

To ride or drive jackasses. 

—Old Song. 

Yuletide afiforded me few pleasures. How I was to 
bridge the gulf of penury and want of the Holiday season 
caused me much concern. Lacking the funds to pay my 
hotel and stable bills, I canvassed the town and sold a few 
pictures before church time. I wished to attend Christ- 
mas service, but lacked the nerve. My grotesque attire 
might have inspired the preacher. 

I had worn holes in all my socks, and not having the 
price of a new pair, retired to my room to darn them. It 
was the first darning of that sort I ever did ; when I had 
finished, I darned my luck, the hard times, and many 
things not down on the calendar. I pictured to my mind's 
eye the pleasures of Christmastide, of which I had cheated 
myself; but it was no time to brood over might-have- 
beens. I would start for the next town that morning. I 
felt a constant anxiety for Mac A'Rony's safety, and 
shouldn't feel easy until we were out of the college dis- 
trict. 

We reached Amsterdam in time for Christmas dinner. 
I will not give the bill of fare ; it wouldn't whet your ap- 
petite. The following day was almost as dull as Christ- 
mas. In the morning I was fortunate enough to receive 
in advance two dollars for distributing calendars to the 

51 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

farmers on my way to the next town, and employed the 
afternoon repairing saddle-bags. 

The snow lay deep, the weather was windy and chill, 
and my donkey slower than axle grease ; so I tarried over 
night and heard Sabbath bells. 

Sunday evening saw us comfortably quartered in the 
little village of Fonda, a few miles' journey. While sup- 
ping I learned that a German newspaper reporter, who 
claimed to be walking across the continent on a $750 
wager, was a g'uest at another hotel. He came into town 
shortly after dark, and, unable to pay for a bed, was per- 
mitted to sleep on a bench, where my informant saw him. 
By the terms of his bet, the fellow was not allowed to beg, 
but could accept the earth, if offered him. 

My sympathies were aroused, and I called on him after 
supper. He told his story, showed me papers, and a book 
signed by the railroad station agents on his route — for he 
had "hit the ties" all the way — and expressed much anx- 
iety about covering the remaining 184 miles to New York 
in six days. 

The young man looked emaciated, his shoes were liter- 
ally worn out. His one meal that day had been a cup of 
coffee and a roll. He hadn't slept in a bed since leaving 
Detroit, where he earned his last money, five dollars. 
Pod's tender heart was touched. Although the more af- 
fluent donkey traveler possessed but a dollar and sixty 
cents, he gave his brother globe-trotter a dollar, a hot 
supper and bed, and would have paid for a stimulating 
drink had not the hotel-keeper been inspired to treat the 
two. 

Next morning some commercial travelers, having 
learned of Pod's generosity, purchased a pair of shoes for 
the pedestrian. The delighted fellow departed at an early 

52 



MAC HELD FOR RANSOM 

hour, expressing his sanguine belief that he would win 
his wager. 

I had to hustle that morning to settle accounts, and it 
was eleven o'clock before Mac and I departed. I had 
only a nickel in pocket. That day we both went without 
lunch. It was long after dark and past supper time when 
we arrived in Fort Plain, and a half hour later before we 
reached the hotel. The town was illuminated with elec- 
tric arc lights, which always throw vivid shadows, and 
Mac A'Rony had a desperate encounter with another 
donkey in the snow. He reared, and pitched, and 
cavorted, and bolted; he wound me up in the reins, and 
then bunked into me — I was in his way all the time — and 
finally rushed down a side street, dragging me after him. 
I had to lead the rampant animal through several un- 
lighted streets round the village to get him to the stable. 
It was the first time I had presented myself at a strange 
hotel without my asinine credentials. When I registered, 
the incredulous proprietor went to the barn for Mac's own 
statement before believing me the famous man I claimed 
to be. 

That evening a committee from the Bohemian Club in- 
vited me to a concert given under the auspices of the 
Fort Plain Band. I went, and enjoyed it. At its conclu- 
sion, I was asked to talk to a phonograph, the invention 
of the president of the Club. Having once addressed an 
audience of chairs, I could not object to talk to a funnel. 
I addressed the emptiness thereof with all the eloquence I 
could muster, then listened while the phonograph tried to 
repeat my words. It was simply awful. Had the ma- 
chine been togged out in night shirt, mask and lighted 
candle, and shot off such a lingo in a dark alley, I should 
have thought it my own spook and fled in terror. 

When I reached Little Falls my stock of photos was 

53 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

exhausted, and, but for a stroke of good luck, I fear I 
could not have paid my bills. Mac A'Rony agreed to 
carry a sign extolling the virtues of a one-price clothier, 
and that brought us a few dollars, which we divided. 

It was late when we started for Herkimer, a town 
twelve miles away. The mud greatly impeded our prog- 
ress and, suddenly, just before dark, when five miles to 
town, we came to a long, covered, wooden bridge. Then 
there was trouble. Mac obstinately refused to enter the 
dark tunnel. I coaxed him with an apple to follow me ; I 
prodded him ; I turned him about and tried to back him 
through ; but he would not budge. I went behind and 
pushed him ; and vexed beyond reason, I finally whipped 
him ; all without avail. What could I do ? I sat down 
and thought. No sound of an approaching vehicle greet- 
ed my ear, but I saw a house down the road. I decided 
to hitch my obdurate beast to the fence and seek assist- 
ance. As I approached the house the seductive aroma of 
frying steak told me it was supper hour. In response to 
my knock a rural-looking man came out and eyed me 
curiously, while chewing vigorously. Indoors I could 
hear somebody drinking out of a saucer. 

"Excuse me for interrupting," I said politely; "but my 
jackass " 

"Yer what?" 

"My jackass ! I am bound for Calif prnia with one, 
and am stuck out there by the bridge. I came to ask your 
assistance." The man swallowed. 

"In a hole, eh? Wall, I reckon you've come ter th' 
right place fer help." 

"No, I'm not in a hole exactly — that's just the trouble. 
My animal abhors holes ; he refuses to enter the covered 
bridge." 

54 



MAC HELD FOR RANSOM 

"Wall, I swan ! can't yer lick him through ?" the far- 
mer asked. 

"As impossible," said I, "as to lick a camel through the 
eye of a needle." 

"I want ter know. Come in," he said ; and turning to 
the hired man, added, "John, let's give th' feller a lift." 

The men donned wraps and boots, and, with an old 
wheelbarrow, followed me down the slushy road to the 
beastly eye-sore of my existence. 

To describe our efforts to get that donkey through the 
bridge would tire you as much as those efforts tired me. 
Mac squirmed and kicked and bit ; he would not be car- 
ried by hand ; so the wheelbarrow was employed. He 
was too large for the vehicle, and lapped over the edges. 
We consumed a half hour in the gigantic task of wheeling 
Mac across that bridge. 

"By gum, young feller !" exclaimed the exhausted far- 
mer, as he dropped the heavy live weight. "Do yer haster 
go through this kind of business every bridge yer come 
ter?" I explained that I usually met with difficulties at 
bridges, but had never encountered a covered one before. 
Then I thanked the good Samaritans for their kindness, 
and prodded Mac to town. 

We arrived in Herkimer late. Directly after supper I 
canvassed the stores, and worked till ten o'clock selling 
pictures. 

We seemed to create quite a sensation. When about to 
retire, I learned that my donkey was stolen ; I was told 
local bandits held him for ransom. I was greatly pro- 
voked, and rushed about the streets, making inquiries un- 
til, at length; a street loafer whispered that he would tell 
me where my animal was, if I "would blow him to a 
drink." I agreed. Then the man "in the know" piloted 
me to a bar-room several blocks away, where I was aston- 

55 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

ished to find the captive drinking with several other jack- 
asses. He was the only one not disconcerted by my ap- 
pearance, and even had the audacity to stick his nose up 
at the bar-keeper and bray. 

I engaged men to assist me convey the inebriate to the 
stable as quickly as possible, and ordered an extra pad- 
lock to be snapped on the door. Next morning I found 
my partner in a surprisingly sober condition. 

Resuming my pilgrimage, I made brief stops at Ilion 
and Frankfort, and arrived in Utica shortly after dark on 
the last day of the leap year. The hotel corridors 
swarmed with inquisitive guests who had been apprised 
of my coming. The jovial proprietor gave us a hearty 
welcome, and, ordering several porters to lead Mac into 
the office, called loudly, to the amusement of all, ''Front ! 
Give the donkeys the best double room in the house." 

''Slow traveling for a leap year," I remarked to the 
clerk. 

"Oh, that reminds me, Mr. Pod," said he; "here's a 
letter for you — just came a few minutes ago." 

I settled my weary frame in a rocker and read it. It 
was actually an invitation to a Leap Year Ball, given un- 
der the auspices of the society girls of Manicure Hall. 
The card was printed, but on its margin were inscribed 
in a purely feminine hand a few choice words urging me 
to come in my traveling habit. It struck me that it might 
be my only chance to get engaged for eight long years, so 
I washed and brushed and polished, and turned up at the 
ball-room at a late but nevertheless fashionable hour. 

The ball was the most brilliant function it had been my 
pleasure to attend since the days of my freedom. Caesar ! 
what charming girls ! Were they really charming ! or was 
it because I had been a recluse so long that most any- 
body wearing dresses fascinated my starved optics? Be- 

56 




bo 
"3 





















MAC HELD FOR RANSOM 

fore advancing a rod into the hall, I received a proposal ; 
within an hour I had a dozen. The dance, the supper, the 
defective lights, and the kisses in the dark, the midnight 
alarm, and the New Year's bells, all fulfilled their offices 
delightfully in turn — all, except the leave-taking of the 
old year, which groaned over the effects of bad salad, and 
gave up the ghost. 

I devoted the afternoon to a delightful nap ; I was worn 
out. Saturday I called upon the genial Mayor, who paid 
me liberally for a photo and subscribed to my donkey 
book. Sunday I set out with Mac for Rome. 

I was told all the roads were in bad condition, and was 
advised to take the tow-path of the Erie Canal. After 
two hours of tramping and groping in the darkness, we 
came to a suburban street; soon after I was directed to a 
tavern, and quartered myself for the night. 

A number of commercial men had prophesied I would 
not make my expenses in Rome, but I did. It was an all- 
day job, however, and another night was fairly upon me 
before I started for Oneida, sixteen miles away. 

We had not gone far, when we came to an old-fashioned 
toll-gate, where I expected to be made to contribute to 
the county's good-road fund. I felt loath to do so, for 
nowhere else on my journey had we found the highway 
in such a disreputable condition. I told Mac to keep his 
mouth shut, and we stealthily walked through the gate, 
hoping not to be observed ; but no sooner done than the 
keeper issued from his shanty and welcomed me back. 
He wished to talk with me, he said. His boy had pre- 
ceded me from town and given his father glowing ac- 
counts of the donkey traveler. So interested were the 
toll-gate keeper and his family in the welfare of Pod and 
Mac that they not only waived the toll, but gave us a press- 
ing invitation to remain with them over night. The gener- 

57 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

osity of that man's big, honest heart stood out in such happy 
contrast with the miserly county administration and my 
own penury that I gratified the man's desire, in a meas- 
ure, and hitching Mac A'Rony, followed my host into 
his dwelling, where I allowed myself to share his frugal 
board. It was certainly such a home where either a Don 
Quixote or a Pythagoras Pod might feel himself a dis- 
tinguished guest. The wife brewed tea, and spread the 
table with black bread and doubtfully wholesome cakes, 
while the children climbed on my knees and heard with 
rapture my tales of adventure. 

When it was time to go the keeper, having learned from 
his son that I sold the pictures "to live on," begged me 
with tears to accept a quarter for the one I gave him, say- 
ing that he had a fair-sized garden besides the pittance he 
received for performing the duties of his humble office, 
whereas I had to depend on Providence for the keeping of 
myself and comrade on our long trip "round the world." 

So Mac and I, thanking the good people for their kind- 
nesses — for Mac's ever-acute appetite had not been over- 
looked by the thoughtful hostess — strode on in mud and 
darkness, slipping, spattering, and mumbling unintel- 
ligible and impolite words, and hoping against hope soon 
to arrive at some comfortable haven of rest. 

A mile beyond we were greeted with loud applause is- 
suing from a huge building to our left, which I took to be 
a girl's seminary, but which Mac insisted was a slaughter 
house. To be distinguished in the dark and tendered such 
an ovation quite tickled my vanity ; but my less-conceited 
partner only brayed and trembled in the fear of being 
chased by a mad pig with its throat cut. When we had 
passed to a safe distance, I met a farmer in a wagon, and 
asked him the name of the illuminated building. 

"The Rome State Insane Asylum," said the man. 

58 



MAC HELD FOR RANSOM 

At length, a dense mist gathered; then it began to 
sprinkle. I could scarcely distinguish Mac in the dark- 
ness. The road was tortuous, one vast river bed of mud, 
as untenable as quicksand. We first ran against a barbed- 
wire fence on one side, and a rail fence on the other, and 
finally, I plunged over boot-tops in a sluice, and might 
have drowned had I not held the reins and been pulled out 
by my unintentionally heroic comrade. My boots were 
new and didn't leak, and the mud and water remained 
in them. 

If ever there was a moment on that overland 'Voyage" 
when I felt in prime condition to give it up, it was there 
and then. Still we struggled onward, and a few hundred 
yards ahead I discovered the faint light of a farm house, 
where I stopped to ask the distance to the next place we 
could secure shelter. 

'' 'Bout four mile, I should jedge," said the farmer. I 
guessed as much, but it gave me a chance to sigh. 

"Mercy! None nearer?" Just then Mac coughed, and 
approached. 

"Nope. But wait! Be you the gentleman bound fer 
'Frisco with a mule ?" 

"Verily so," I returned, while my partner brayed in- 
dignantly at being called a mule. 

"Wall, what's it wuth to take you both in fer the night 
and feed ye?" the man asked, avariciously. 

"Oh, about seventy-five cents." . 

"Come back," said he ; "I just walked from the railroad 
station a mile and a half in the mud, and lost my over- 
shoes, and kin sympathize with ye." 

My donkey was comfortably stabled, watered and fed, 
and I ushered into a cozy room, where my host brought 
me dry garments and slippers, and gave me a hot supper. 
Truly, I thought, the darkest hour is just before dawn. 

59 



CHAPTER VII. 

I pass like night from land to land, 

I have strange power of speech ; 
So soon as e'er his face I see, 
I know the man that must hear me, 

To him my tale I teach. 

— Rime of the Ancient Mariner. 

Having the funds to tide over a couple of days, I set 
out early next morning for Syracuse. At 1 1 :oo P. M. we 
tramped tired and foot-sore into the village of Fayetteville, 
having traveled twenty miles, the longest day's journey 
yet made. 

My donkey was fagged out. The stable men could 
hardly get him into his stall ; but Mac had great recupera- 
tive power, and was so frisky in the morning that we re- 
sumed the march to the Salt City. It was still some dis- 
tance to the city when an incident happened to mar 
the pleasure of our peaceful walk. In passing a large 
dairy farm, Mac's grotesque figure excited either the ad- 
miration or the contempt of an ugly-looking bull, which 
left a small bunch of cattle in the field and trotted along 
the dilapidated fence. His actions were frightfully men- 
acing, and I urged Mac to a faster gait. Suddenly the 
bull broke through the fence, bellowing, and made for us, 
head down. 

My first thought was to save Mac's life. The leather- 
rimmed goggles he wore placed him at a disadvantage, 
aside from the fact that the road was icy and denied us 
a secure footing. Then, too, Mac carried seventy-five 

60 



I MOP THE HOTEL FLOOR 

pounds burden, including my grip, the saddle and rifle. I 
was wholly unprepared for the bull ; my revolver was un- 
loaded, I having made it a rule to withdraw the cart- 
ridges every morning. As the brute lunged at my donkey, 
I struck Mac with my whip and wheeled him about with 
the reins in time to dodge the enemy. Recovering him- 
self, the enraged bull made another lunge at my spry 
partner, and still another, the third time scraping off a 
tuft of hair with one of his horns. I could only assist 
Mac with the reins while striking the bull over the face 
with the cutting rawhide. I yelled for help. A quarter 
mile away stood a farm house, and in front of it two men 
gawking at our ''circus," indifferent to our peril. 

I never was more active than during those awful mo- 
ments ; Mac afterward said he never was so busy in all 
his life. So rapidly did we three pirouette, the bull after 
Mac, the donkey after me, and I after the bull, that the 
two human statues in the distance must have taxed their 
optics to distinguish which was which. So dizzy did I 
become that I wheeled Mac round and started in the op- 
posite direction, the enemy bellowing, I calling, and the 
donkey braying to beat a fire-boat whistle. Finally, I 
heard the glad sound of approaching wheels from up the 
road, and at a glance saw a horse and buggy. As it came 
nearer, I distinguished a woman driving, and my heart 
sank. Surely she would not have the courage to venture 
into our very midst ; she must soon turn round. A man 
might drive to our aid. 

Still we three kept busy, until the rig wheeled down 
upon us, the prancing horse so distracting the bull that he 
shied to the opposite side, and, forgetting us, set out on 
a trot after the receding vehicle, lowing vexatiously. I 
held my breath. Soon we collected our senses and hustled 
on until the enemy was lost to view. There are many 

6i 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

who would call our rescue a marvel ; Mac said it was just 
our *1uck ;" but I thought it miraculous. 

A prominent hotel in Syracuse welcomed me as its hon- 
ored guest, and crowds cheered us to the door. I had 
consumed six weeks traveling from New York, a distance 
of 340 miles, although by rail the mileage shrinks to 303. 

It was Friday, January 8. I was tendered a private 
box at the theatre that evening, and the following day 
Mac and I appeared on the stage between acts, at both the 
matinee and evening performances, I receiving five dollars 
for each appearance. Saturday I devoted to business; 
and was invited to the Elks' entertainment in the evening. 
At noon on Monday we headed for Auburn. 

A heavy snow accompanied a fall of the mercury. 
Great drifts had formed during the night, reaching any- 
where from inches to feet, and from yard to yard. My 
spirits were low. The first eight miles to Camillus were 
covered in four hours. After a good rest and poor fod- 
der, we strode on over the white and solitary road seven 
more miles to Elbridge, where, at eight o'clock, I regis- 
tered at a cozy hostelry, and ordered that Mac be cared 
for and my supper at once be prepared. Then I hastened 
to canvass the stores, disposing of three photos at fifteen 
cents apiece. My over-night expenses would be a dollar 
and a half ; I lacked forty-five cents of the amount. But 
that did not disconcert me. The hotel was composed of 
bricks, and its proprietor was one of them : a jovial Grand 
Army man who wore a big soft hat, and a blue coat with 
brass buttons. His cranium was chock full of entertain- 
ing reminiscence, too. 

At that time, men were engaged with mule-teams haul- 
ing stone for repairing the canal, and the hotel was filled 
with an incongruous lot of teamsters and laborers. Judg- 
ing by their roguish remarks, it would be wise of me to 

62 



I MOP THE HOTEL FLOOR 

place my donkey under lock and key ; but when I hinted 
it to my host, he assured me my fears were unwarranted. 

I was assigned a large chamber on the main floor, next 
to the dining room. There was no lock to the door; I 
complained about it. ''Nobody will molest you," said my 
host. I soon fell to sleep. Long before daylight I was 
awakened by the juggling of plates and cutlery, and the 
racking of a stove. It was impossible to sleep during 
such a hubub, so I proposed to smoke. Rising from bed 
and groping in darkness, I hunted for the electric light 
button hanging from the ceiling, but had proceeded only 
a few steps when, suddenly, I fell headlong over a huge, 
hairy substance, which moved and yawned. 

Hamlet's ghost ! Was this really midwinter's night 
dream ? I sat on the floor for a moment to set my dislo- 
cated big toe on the off foot, then staggered timorously to 
my feet, found the cord, and turned on the light. Could 
I believe my eyes? There lay Mac A'Rony. He gazed 
at me in mute bewilderment and blinked like an owl, then 
presently rose to the occasion, brayed, and charged at the 
donkey in the mirror. It was enough to awaken the whole 
village when the excited animal rushed around the room 
with the mirror frame for a collar, vaulting chairs, bed, 
and table, and exerting his best efforts to kick holes in the 
walls and ceiling. 

"What in damnation is the racket!" yelled the proprie- 
tor, as he came running to my room. I thought to disarm 
him by being the first to complain, for I expected some 
harsh invectives to be hurled my way. 

''You said I should not be molested !" I said indignant- 
ly, standing on a mantle shelf in my night shirt. 

"Well! It's the first time my house was ever turned 
into a stable," retorted the erstwhile jovial Grand Army 
man. 

63 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"And it's the first time I ever was made to room with a 
jackass," I returned, in a rage. 

By this time Mac had stuck a foot in the frame-collar 
in trying to clear the stove, and had fallen. I quickly 
leaped from my perch, and my now more conciliating host 
helped to disengage the beast from his wooden harness, 
and give him a forcible exit. Then we dressed, and set 
to work clearing the room. Of course, the cook rushed 
in to have her say ; otherwise, that hotel was suspiciously 
quiet, considering what had happened. 

When I went to breakfast the landlord met me with a 
smile ; it surprised and pleased me. I concluded that the 
practical jokers had settled everything to his satisfaction. 
My table mates were unusually uncommunicative; their 
conversation hung mournfully on the weather. My break- 
fast finished, I went to my host and informed him of the 
state of my finances. 

"Two mule-drivers were discharged last night," he ob- 
served. *T could have got you a job if you had told me 
in time." 

Right here an aged townsman came in, stamping the 
snow off his boots, unwound a great tippet from his neck, 
and regarding the clay-besmeared floor, delivered his 
opinion to the landlord. 

"Gol blast me! If I run a house a lookin' like this, I'd 
close up and go out of the business," the granger re- 
marked, with a critical eye to the floor and a wink at me. 

"I agree with you," said I ; "Price ought to pay a quar- 
ter to have the floor cleaned. 

"It would be worth twice that sum to me to see you 
clean it," he returned, humorously. 

"It's a bargain !" so saying, I pulled off my coat, and 
called for a mop and a pail of hot water. 

The landlord seemed to regard the incident as a good 

64 



I MOP THE HOTEL FLOOR 

joke; so did Pye Pod. Rolling up my trousers and shirt 
sleeves, I fell to work. The old man fled to spread the 
news, as soon as he saw I was in earnest. My first sweep 
with the old mop shattered it; the landlord lost no time 
procuring a new one. Then I went at it as though it were 
my special line of trade, and so deeply absorbed was I in 
the novel undertaking that less than half of the population 
of the village filed into the room without my comment. 
There were men and women, young and old and middling, 
and children bound for school ; all around, backing 
against the walls and windows, commenting, laughing, 
and joking; while I just mopped, and with new jokes 
helped make merry, for I felt that was an experience of a 
lifetime for all of us. 

A pretty girl snapped a kodak at me ; she took fifteen 
orders for pictures within a minute. I was gratified to 
see all enjoy themselves. Still I kept mopping, and 
watched the clock to see how much time was left before 
school. My time was coming ; I wanted everybody to hear 
my story. They didn't know a thing about me or Mac 
A'Rony, except through newspaper reports, which are not 
always reliable. Finally, I dropped my mop and straight- 
ened up to rest my lame back. 

**Does that suit you ?" I asked the landlord. 

**A handsomer job was never done this floor," said he ; 
"you have earned your money." 

Every one evidently wished to see me paid. As I re- 
ceived the cash, I whispered to my host to hand me 
the key to the door, expressing my purpose with a sly 
wink, which he hardly interpreted. The silver jingled 
with the brass in my hands, and I went to the door and 
locked it. Then walking to the desk, I turned, faced my 
audience without a blush, bowed low, and said : 

"Ladies and gentlemen, and children of Elbridge;" 

65 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

then gave a brief account of my travels from New York. 
My words pleased, and were greeted with laughter. But 
they had not heard my peroration. 

*'We rarely appreciate anything that costs us nothing," 
I began my conclusion. *'In New York, a show such as I 
have just provided would cost at least a dollar and a half 
for orchestra chairs and fifty cents for the family circle; 
this seems to be the family circle. Now, to save the bother 
of printing tickets and posters, we admitted you to the 
show without delaying you at the door in the frosty air, 
and one and all, old and young, must pay me five cents 
before you leave this room. The door is locked, and I 
hold the key. Those of you ladies who left your purses on 
the piano can borrow of your gentlemen friends, who, 
doubtless, will be ready to help you out of your dilemma. 
Some of you may demur, and complain of hard times, but 
said excuses will not hold with me ; I carry hard times 
with me whither I go on my long journey, whereas you 
have yours only in one place. As soon as all have paid 
me, the door will be unlocked, and not until. I thank you 
for your unsolicited audience, and trust that the next 
time we meet the circumstances will be as happy for us all 
as they have been this January morning." 

My speech must have been forceful, for the nickels 
poured into my hat. As each individual paid I motioned 
him or her to the opposite side of the room, to guard 
against humbugging. The landlord had to come to the 
financial relief of a few, but the door was opened in time 
for school, and everybody departed with evident good 
feeling. 

My host was the most astonished of all, and, with a 
hearty grip of the hand, predicted that I would reach my 
destination. Without delay I settled my account with 

66 



I MOP THE HOTEL FLOOR 

him, saddled Mac A'Rony, and with $2.80 to the good 
started for Auburn. The last denizen of the village to 
bid me God-speed was the philanthropist who unwittingly 
procured me my "bill" for the hotel show, and then filled 
my purse for me. 



67 



CHAPTER VIII. 

An attempted assassination ! I cried in excited tones. 
One of the boldest ever heard of, and right here, too, in 
the shadow of this palace devoted to commerce and peace. 

— A Soldier of Manhattan. 

Soon after reaching Auburn, I received a theatre man- 
ager who called to engage Mac and me to appear at the 
Opera House. We signed with him, and the first evening 
we made such a decided hit that we were engaged for a 
re-appearance; I received ten dollars for both perform- 
ances and the privilege to sell photos at the door, which 
netted me a considerable sum. 

Auburn is the seat of a State Prison and a Theological 
Seminary. Avoiding the former, I set out to visit the 
seminary. The students were cordial, and showed me 
about the buildings, among them being Willard Chapel, 
which they called the handsomest in America. 

I was unable to leave until just before noon. Tramping 
without dinner went against the donkey's grain even more 
literally than it did mine. About 2 o'clock I was passing 
through Aurelius, when a farmer invited me to take lunch 
with him. I accepted, and enjoyed the repast and the 
visit with the hospitable agriculturist and his wife. He 
gave me a card to a California friend, and hoped I would 
visit him and present his regards. This pleasant delay 
upset my calculations ; I did not reach Cayuga until dusk. 

The lake was frozen, but the sun had somewhat melted 
the ice during the past two days. I was cautioned not to 
venture across with the donkey, for, if he should slip, 

68 



FOOTPADS FIRE UPON US 

both of us would go through the ice. This was a great 
disappointment, for it compelled me to follow the tow- 
path some five miles round the edge of the lake through 
the dreaded Montezuma Swamp, in order to reach Seneca 
Falls. It was long after dark when we left the swamp 
and entered the shadow of a rocky ridge. A half mile 
further, I discerned the distant electric lights of the town. 
To our left was the canal, and to the right, the rocky 
barrier, while ahead, beside the tow-path, shone an arc 
light suspended from one of several poles which extended 
in a line to town. 

I was tramping along at Mac's head when, suddenly, a 
man stepped from behind the pole and ordered me to 
throw up my hands. Although excited, I still had the 
presence of mind to jump behind my donkey. Instantly 
the highwayman fired at me. Then I fired to show I was 
armed and ready to defend myself; and at once a shot 
came from the rocks, a little to my rear. Turning my 
head, I saw what appeared to be a cave, where presumably 
the second man was hiding. But just as I turned my 
head, a second shot from the man in front knocked off my 
plug hat; and then came a shot from the rocks. Now, 
fully realizing my peril between two fires, I aimed my re- 
volver at the man in the road some thirty feet away, and 
fired to cripple him. I apparently succeeded, for the fel- 
low cried, ''God! I'm hit!" and fell in the snow-covered 
road, resting on one elbow, and pressing his hand to his 
right breast. 

Not sure, however, that the man was not feigning, I 
shot into the cave, from which at once issued the other 
footpad, who ran down the tow-path. Then I picked up 
my hat and passed by the prostrate man, keeping my re- 
volver trained upon him, and hurried on toward Seneca 
Falls. 

69 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

A quarter of a mile beyond I came to Lock House No. 
6. My story greatly excited the quiet household. Hib- 
bard, the keeper, with a lantern helped me examine Mac 
to see if he was wounded ; then we were generously 
cared for. After drinking a cup of tea and toasting my 
feet awhile at the fire, I made my departure. 

On reaching Seneca Falls, I called on the chief of po- 
lice ; he being absent, I saw the Mayor, who told me that 
I did only my duty by shooting in self-defense. Then I 
went back to the hotel where, in the crowd of excited peo- 
ple anxious to hear my story, were reporters eager to 
gather the facts of the affair. 

Next day Hibbard reported that at 2 o'clock in the 
morning he had heard a buggy pass his house toward the 
scene of the shooting, and, although he laid awake until 
daylight, did not hear it return. He said it was the first 
vehicle in years to traverse the tow-path at such a late 
hour, and believed the injured footpad had been rescued 
by his confederate and driven away. 

After lunch I left for Waterloo, where I found its main 
thoroughfare so choked with people to see me that I could 
not get Mac through. They hailed me as a hero, and 
shouted my name and Mac's until they were hoarse, and 
purchased all my photographs at twice the regular price. 
Finally, we resumed our journey, and arrived in Geneva 
long after dark. 

Geneva is the seat of Hobart College. One of the so- 
cieties invited me to a spread at its fraternity house; 
and, while I was there, Mac was stolen from the stable, of 
which I was not informed until evening. In view of the 
fact that a cow had recently been lodged in the college li- 
brary, I shouldered my Winchester and set out on the war- 
path after breakfast, accompanied by the Chief of the Fire 
Department. 

70 



FOOTPADS FIRE UPON US 

We had searched the dormitories and cellars of the col- 
lege buildings and were going to the gymnasium, when 
I discovered Mac standing in the snow, eating thistles. It 
had been a cold and stormy night ; he was covered with 
snow, and icicles hung from his under jaw. Yet the 
donkey uttered no complaint, . merely saying, "The boys 
didn't do a thing to me last night." I learned from a pro- 
fessor that Mac had been found in a recitation room de- 
scribing impossible theorems and eating chalk, and that 
the janitor and two professors had their hands full carry- 
ing the donkey down two staircases and out of doors. 

Although it was biting cold and the mercury had fallen 
to the zero point, I could not afford to tarry longer. Af- 
ter lunch we set out in a blinding snow-storm and tramped 
on to Phelps, where we stopped for supper and an hour's 
rest. At first Mac had shown no ill-eft'ects of his recent 
exposure, but now he coughed. Having made but eight 
miles that day, I resolved to brave the storm four miles 
further, and reached Clifton Springs at ten o'clock. 
There I obtained comfortable lodgings for myself and 
partner. 

Next day the venerable director of the Sanitarium in- 
vited me to be his guest, and kindly permitted me to lec- 
ture to the patients of his fashionable hostelry for a silver 
offering. Of course, I accepted. My "heart to heart" talk 
seemed to tickle the large audience, but when the porter 
brought back my hat with only two dollars in it I was 
disappointed. I had expected a contribution commensu- 
rate with the encores. When I paid the porter 25 cents for 
his services, I dropped my spectacles and broke the 
glasses. A new pair would cost me $1.75. That made 
accounts even. 

"Reminds me of the colored preacher," observed the 
director with good humor; "somebody passed his hat to 

71 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the congregation and returned it empty. 'Well,' said the 
parson, 'I'm thankful to de Lawd to get my hat back." 
The story was apt, but it did not console me. 

While at the Sanitarium I sold many photographs, and 
judging the patients to be affluent, doubled the regular 
price. Before our departure, Mac showed symptoms of 
rheumatism. A doctor suggested that an electri-thermal 
bath would make a new animal of him. ''It won't cost you 
a cent," said he. I arranged for the treatment at once. 
It required several attendants to get the fellow in the elec- 
tric chair, where they secured him with straps ; and then 
the doctor administered the electricity. While the electric 
wand was rubbed over his legs and body, the frightened 
donkey brayed and twisted and squirmed, and threatened 
to upset the chair, causing much merriment. 

Well, Mac's professional treatment made him a new 
donkey. He traveled more quickly than ever before, and 
almost out-tramped his master. 

Near the Springs is a farm-house where resided, at that 
time, a sister of Stephen A. Douglas. I called to see her, 
and was cordially received. She was 86 years of age, her 
left arm paralyzed, and her eyesight very dim. 

Tramping on, we came to Shortsville, where we stopped 
for dinner. Supper was eaten at Victor, and at eight, Mac 
and I set out for Pittsford, the wind and snow 
blowing furiously in our faces. The night was intensely 
dark. Somewhere past ten, I passed two tramps on the 
highway, but only they and the passing trains broke the 
monotony of the journey. 

It must have been eleven when the road joined another 
at right angles ; I was puzzled then whether to turn to the 
left or to the right. I stamped my half frozen feet, as we 
halted in the biting wind until, presently, through the fall- 
ing snow, I saw a distant light, and hurried for it. Far- 

73 



FOOTPADS FIRE UPON US 

mers usually retired early; but on arriving at the cozy 
house, I found a party of young people dancing, playing 
cards, and eating refreshments. A kind-faced woman 
greeted me at the door, and asked me in. When I intro- 
duced myself, and inquired my way, the astonishment of 
the whole party told me plainly I was considered an hon- 
ored guest, transient indeed though I was. 

"Well, I declare, we've read about you lots ;" said 
the hostess. "Won't you sit down and have some ice 
cream and cake ?" 

"I smell coffee," I remarked, frankly; "if I may be 
treated to a little of that, I shall be grateful ; but as for 
ice cream, I feel it a little unseasonable this evening. And 
as I rubbed my ears vigorously, the girls laughed and said, 
Ain't he plucky !" 

It was hard, indeed, to break away from this jolly 
party ; I don't know how long I should have tarried if 
Mac had not called to me. His bray was the signal for 
a stampede to the porch; all forgot refreshments and 
dancing in their eagerness to see the famous donkey. 
They simply lionized him. The girls carried cake and pie 
and ice cream to him, and one offered him a fried egg, 
which he declined. When we said our adieux the shiver- 
ing group gave us a hearty cheer and God-speed, then 
rushed indoors, leaving the dejected pilgrims to the cold 
consolation of the snow, wind and darkness of a winter's 
night. 



73 



CHAPTER IX. 

In the first lighted house there was a woman who 
would not open to me. . 

Modestine was led away by a layman to the stables, and 
I and my pack were received into our Lady of the Snows. 

— Travels with a Donkey. 

Having been directed on the road to Pittsford, a town 
seven miles beyond, we tramped wearily on, battling with 
the elements as best we could until midnight, when al- 
most numb with cold, I resolved to seek refuge in 
a small hamlet we were nearing, called Bush- 
nell Basin. I was told it contained a tavern 
which would accommodate us, in an emergency. But 
it was so dark when we reached Bushnell that I could" 
not see the Basin. Its dozen dusky-looking shanties 
seemed to be deserted, and when I saw a boy crossing the 
road I was too surprised to hail him. Mac brayed, and 
the lad stopped. I asked him where the hotel was. He 
directed me toward a dim Hght, and disappeared. We 
pushed on, but the light was extinguished before we could 
reach the house. I called loudly to the landlord to let me 
in; I rapped on the door desperately, and repeated my 
yells. A dog in the house barked savagely; then Mac 
began to bray, and I wondered that nobody entered a pro- 
test against such a disturbance. At length, a squeaky fe- 
male voice called from an upstairs window : 

"Who be ye?" 

"A man," I answered, civilly. 

"What kind of a man ?" 

74 



IN A HAYMOW BELOW ZERO 






'A gentleman," I said, with emphasis. 
'What's that thing yer got with ye ?" 

I was afraid she'd catch cold in the opened window, if 
she was in her nightdress, but I replied in a voice of a 
siren, "A jackass.'' 

"Can't let ye in — no room for shows here — next town," 
fell the frozen words on my benumbed ears. 

Then the woman sneezed, and closed the window. Mac 
A'Rony seemed to comprehend the situation, but offered 
no remedy. I would have covered the three miles to Pitts- 
ford, but the donkey was fagged out, and could barely 
drag his legs. Where were we to find shelter at such a 
time and place ? 

Retracing our steps a short distance, I caught the sound 
of pounding, as of a hammer. Soon I heard the sawing 
of a board, and the saw's enraged voice when it struck a 
knot. Saved! I thought, as I walked in the direction 
whence the sound emanated. The snow lay ten inches 
deep ; old Boreas shook the trees, and whistled round the 
quivering hovels ; and I was so chilled and vexed that, if 
another person had dared to ask me what kind of a man 
I was, I would have measured somebody for a coffin. 

Finally, I came to the house, through whose window I 
discerned a lighted candle in a back room. I rapped on 
the door. The sawing continued ; so did my rapping. 
Then the sawing ceased, and the door was opened by a 
swarthy, heavy bearded man who extended me a kindly 
"Good evenin'." I introduced myself, and pleaded my 
case. 

"Come in where it's warm," he said ; and following him 
to the stove, I explained my situation. 

"We ain't got much accommodation for ye," he apolo- 
gized, "but I can't leave ye and yer pet out in the cold. 
This is my wife," and the man introduced me. Then he 

75 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

censured the landlady of the tavern for not admitting me, 
saying she ought to have her license revoked. "If you'd 
been a loafing vagabond and drunkard, she'd taken ye in 
quick enough," said my sympathetic host ; "but as ye was a 
gentleman she was embarrassed to know how to treat ye." 
From which I gathered that he did know how, and would 
prove it. He explained that the front part of the building 
was a store ; the rear portion was divided into two small 
rooms, — a kitchen and a sleeping room. The second floor 
was utilized as a hay-loft, wherein was stored Hungarian 
hay for his horse, which he said he kept "in a shed 'cross 
the road yonder." 

"Now, if ye'll lend me a hand," he suggested, "we'll 
make room for yer mule in the shed, and my wife'll get 
ye something to eat. Then we'll see where we kin tuck 
ye comfortable till mornin'." 

I pulled on my mittens and followed the man into the 
biting wind with a warmer and cheerier heart, and, ac- 
quainting Mac with the good news, proceeded to assist my 
host to transfer a huge woodpile in order to obtain the side 
of a hen roost lying underneath it, with which to construct 
a partition in the shed to preserve peace between horse and 
donkey. 

By one o'clock Mac was stabled and I in prime condi- 
tion to enjoy any kind of a meal. The good wife had fried 
me three eggs, and brewed me a pot of tea, and sawed off 
several slices of home-made bread, for which I blessed her 
in my heart and paid her a compliment by eating it all. 

The repast over, I chatted a while with my friends and 
smoked ; then said if they were ready to retire, I was. 
A roughly made staircase reached from the kitchen floor 
over the cook-stove to a trap-door in the ceiling, and up 
those stairs I followed my host, he with candle in hand, I 
with a quilt which I feared the kind people had robbed 

76 



IN A HAYMOW BELOW ZERO 

from their own bed. Great gaps yawned in the roof and 
sides of the loft, through which the wind whistled coldly. 
The hay was covered with snow in places and the ther- 
mometer must have been far below zero. But I stuck 
my legs in the hay, and pulled a woolen nightshirt over 
my traveling clothes, and tucked the quilt round my body, 
and put on my hat and earlaps, and soon was as snug as a 
bug in a rug, and slept soundly. 

I arose early with the family, joined them at breakfast, 
paid my host liberally, and started with Mac for Pittsford. 
There we were welcomed by a party of young men who 
had expected to give us a fitting reception the evening be- 
fore. They claimed that, had they known where we were, 
they would have rescued us with a bob-sleigh. I did not 
tarry with them, but tramped on to Rochester, and arrived 
there at 3 130 P. M., having covered thirty-five miles since 
the previous morning. 

We spent two days in the Flour City. An old business 
acquaintance arranged for Mac A'Rony to pose in the 
show window of a clothing store, for which I received five 
dollars. Although it was dreadfully cold and the wind 
blew a gale, Mac attracted every pedestrian on the street. 

I called on "Rattlesnake Pete," the proprietor of a well- 
known curiosity shop, who wanted to buy my bullet- 
riddled hat, but I declined to part with it at any reason- 
able price ; then I called on the Mayor. He received me 
cordially, laughed when I related my adventures, and sub- 
scribed to my book. 

Rochester is the seat of a Theological Seminary, and 
several breweries. Near by is the celebrated Genesee 
Falls, where Sam Patch leaped to his death. Many old 
friends called on me during my sojourn, among them a 
physician, who gave me a neat little case of medicines, 
such as he believed would be most needed in emergency 

77 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

on such a journey ; and while being entertained at a club, 
I was presented with a fine sombrero. 

In spite of the frigid gale which had been raging three 
days, and of the dire predictions of the Western Union 
bulletins, I started with Mac for Spencerport at 12:30, 
right after lunch. The village lay twelve miles distant. 
The biting wind swept across the level meadows, laden 
with icy dust from the frozen crust of the snow, and cut 
into our faces. Five times were Mac and I welcomed 
into houses to warm, but we reached the village an hour 
and a half after dark with only my ears frost-bitten, and 
soon were comfortably quartered for the night. Next 
morning we started for Brockport, eight miles further on, 
by the tow-path, which we followed. 

The wind was blowing forty miles an hour, and the 
mercury fell below zero. Every now and then we had to 
turn our backs to the gale to catch our breath. Mac's face 
was literally encased in ice ; I rubbed my ears and cheeks 
constantly to prevent their freezing. Only two or three 
sleighs were out, and the drivers of these were wrapped so 
thoroughly in robes and mufflers that I could not distin- 
guish male from female. Still determined not to retreat 
to town, I urged my little thoroughbred on, and soon we 
were called into a house and permitted to thaw out. 

On this occasion Mac, to his own astonishment, as well 
as that of the kind lady of the house, stuck his frosted 
snoot into a pot of boiling beans on the stove, for which 
unprecedented behavior I duly apologized. 

Eight more times both of us were taken into hospitable 
homes and inns to warm before reaching Brockport at 
eight in the evening, more dead than alive. My nose and 
ears were now frost-bitten. The towns-people, hearing 
of our arrival, flocked into the hotel to chat with me, or 
went to the stable to see Mac A'Rony. 

78 



IN A HAYMOW BELOW ZERO 

Wednesday I resumed the journey, resolved that noth- 
ing save physical incapacity should deter me; now was 
the time to harden myself to exposure, and prepare me for 
greater trials later on. But before leaving, I purchased 
a small hand-sled, and improvised rope-traces by which 
Mac could draw my luggage instead of carrying it. Be- 
sides, this novel sort of vehicle would attract attention; 
I reahzed that we must depend for a living more upon 
sensation than upon our virtues. The next thing essential 
was a collar for the donkey, and I had to make it. But 
to make the stubborn beast understand I wished him to 
draw the sled, that he wasn't hitched to stand, was the 
greatest difficulty I had. Finally, he caught on, and 
marched along through the streets quite respectably. 

Beyond the town we met with some deep snowdrifts 
lying across the road, and Mac's little legs would get 
stuck, or he would pretend they were, and I would have 
to dig the fellow out with my rifle. Again, while leading 
the stubborn animal in order to make better time in the 
opposing wind, I would suddenly hear a grating, scrap- 
ing sound to the rear, and looking around would find the 
sled overturned with its burden. After several such up- 
sets, I cut a bough from a tree, whittled a toothpick point 
to it, and prodded Mac to proper speed, while I walked 
behind and with a string steadied the top-heavy load of 
freight. Then, this difficulty remedied, Mac, with seem- 
ing rascality, would cross and recross the ridge of ice and 
snow in the center of the road, as if he couldn't make up 
his mind which of the beaten tracks to follow, or disliked 
the monotony of a single trail, every time upsetting the 
sled. During that long and frigid day's tramp but one 
human being passed me, and he was in a sleigh. He rec- 
ognized my outfit, for he called to me encouragingly, 
"Stick to it. Pod ; you'll win yet !" 

79 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Late in the afternoon a man hailed me from the door 
of a farm-house, ''Come in and warm, and have a drink of 
cider." Now, if there was one thing in the world that 
tickled my palate, it was sweet cider, and I accepted a 
glass. 

"Wouldn't your pard have a drink?" asked the gener- 
ous man. 

"Presume he would, if you offered it," I replied. "I 
never knew him to refuse any kind of a beverage, though 
this cider is pretty hard." 

The farmer brought out a milk-pan; and that donkey 
drained the pan. 

"Shall I give him some more?" asked the big-hearted 
soul. Mac stuck out his nose in mute response, so I said 
yes, provided he would not be robbing himself ; it would 
probably put new vigor in the fatigued animal, and super- 
induce more speed. 

"Got barrels of it, friend, barrels of it," said the Good 
Samaritan, who refilled the pan which Mac again drained. 
Then thanking the farmer, I steered my donkey on over 
the ice-bound highway. 

We had not proceeded a mile when I observed that Mac 
did not walk as firmly as he had ; his course was decidedly 
zig-zag. Finally I left my station at the sled and guided 
him by the bit. Now he staggered more than ever ; then 
it dawned on me that the cider had gone to his head. In 
less than five minutes more I regretted having met that 
liberal-hearted farmer, possessing barrels of hard cider. 
Suddenly the drunken donkey fell down in the snow, and, 
instead of attempting to rise, he tried to stand on his head. 
Not succeeding in that, he made an effort to sit up, and 
toppled over backwards. All this time he brayed ecstatic- 
ally, as if in the seventh heaven. Next he began to roll, 
and tangled himself in the rope traces, and tumbled the 

80 




'Mac could drazv my luggage instead of carrying it. 




'Mac's little legs would get stuck." 



IN A HAYMOW BELOW ZERO 

sled and gladstone bag about the snow as though it were 
rubbish. Fearing lest he would break my rifle and cam- 
eras, I tried to unbuckle them from the saddle while the 
scapegrace was in the throes of delirium tremens, and got 
tangled up with him in the ropes. In trying to free my- 
self, I was accidentally kicked over in the snow. And in 
that ridiculous and awkward fix I was found by a jovial 
farmer, who drove up in a sleigh. He soon helped me out 
of my scrape, and laughed me into good humor, kindly 
consenting to take charge of my luggage and send a bob- 
sleigh after the drunkard as soon as he reached his house, 
a mile beyond. 

There I waited for the relief committee and the wreck- 
ing sleigh to arrive. To say I was the maddest of mortals 
doesn't half express it. At length two strong men with 
my help succeeded in depositing Mac on the bob ; and he 
was conveyed to the barn and there placed behind the 
bars, bedded and fed, and left to sober up, while I, his out- 
raged master, was hospitably entertained over night by 
my charitable benefactor. 

We were now at Rich's Corners, some four miles from 
Albion. My good host provided me with such warm ap- 
parel as I hadn't with me, and when bed-time came, I was 
trundled into a downy bed where I dreamed all night 
about drunken jackasses. 

By breakfast time I had recovered my good spirits. I 
insisted on baking the buckwheat cakes, and not until all 
the family were apparently filled with the flapjacks which 
I tossed in the air to their amusement did I sit down to 
the table to eat. 

Breakfast over, I joined my host in a smoke, then 
donned my wraps for the day's journey. When we men 
returned from the barn with the reformed donkey, a num- 

8i 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK \ 

> 

ber of the neighboring farmers had assembled with their { 

families on the porch to see the overland pilgrims. I ,, 

snapped my camera on the group, said "Go on, Mac," to | 

my remorseful partner, and soon was plodding toward ; 
Albion. 



82 



CHAPTER X. 

Strange to see what delight we married people have 
to see these poor fools decoyed into our condition, every 
man and woman gazing and smiling at them. 

— Samuel Pepys' Diary. 

We did not reach Albion until noon. So numerous 
were the snow-drifts that we made only a mile an hour. 
Old Boreas might have been a little more considerate and 
brushed the snow along the fences instead of pihng it 
across our path. That morning I dug Mac out of a dozen 
snow-drifts. 

Albion looked to be a pretty place. Besides many at- 
tractive homes, it possesses the celebrated Pullman Mem- 
orial Church, a High School, and a woman's reformatory. 
But I did not visit those interesting places. Being a 
high churchman, the church was too low for me ; not be- 
ing up in the classics, the high school was too high for 
me; and believing women to be terrestrial angels, I did 
not wish to be convinced that my judgment was wrong by 
investigating a female reformatory. I put up at a com- 
fortable hotel, where I was told that the relentless storm 
would likely imprison me several days, and found cozy 
quarters for Mac A'Rony. The day after my arrival, a 
neighboring farmer took me sleigh-riding into the coun- 
try to dine with him and his mother, his fleet horse having 
once conveyed him and his father from Dakota to Albion, 
1, 600 miles, in thirty-six days. When, I told Mac about it, 
he turned a deaf ear, lay down, and groaned a groan of 
incredulity. Ex-Consul Dean Currie invited me to spend 

83 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

an evening with him and his family, and took me to call 
on the Mayor, who received me cordially and offered me 
the use of the Town Hall for a lecture. I accepted, and 
addressed a well-filled house; my receipts far exceeding 
my expenses in town. 

The coziest place during these three stormy days, I 
found to be an easy chair by the great stove in the hotel 
office, where I whiled away most of my time. There, 
throughout the wintry days and evenings, assembled the 
guests of the house and many convivial spirits from town, 
to hear the biggest lie, or to relate the most ridiculous 
yarn. 

At one of those gatherings, I met an interesting char- 
acter Sylvenus Reynolds. Although he was eighty-four 
years old, he appeared as young and agile as most men of 
half his years. He attributed his longevity to active out- 
of-door life. Judging from his talk, one would have 
thought him to be the greatest traveler living; but, be- 
cause he was denied the gift of a scribe, he would prob- 
ably die like the heroes of the country churchyard, "un- 
known to fortune and to fame.'' He had tramped and 
lived by his rifle from Puget Sound to Terra Del Fuego, 
and was the first white man to cross the Andes from Chili 
to Brazil. 

Once in the jungles of India he and a lion and a tiger 
all met unexpectedly, and, while the three were determin- 
ing which two should become partners, the tiger made a 
spring at Sylvenus, and just when his gun missed fire and 
he thought it all up with him, the lion leaped in the air, 
caught the tiger by the neck, and killed it. He said after 
that he never could be induced to take the life of a lion, 
"the kindest and gentlest of wild beasts." 

But I must tell about his famous jump across the Lock 
at Lockport, at that time 14% feet wide. The event was 

84 



AN ASININE SNOWBALL. 

well advertised. Temporary toll-gates were established, 
and ten cents levied on such individual passing through 
to the ''show." Over eight hundred and eighty-eight dol- 
lars were collected for the jumper. The jump was suc- 
cessful, and Syl got the pot. The narrative closed with a 
discussion — and another jump. 

"That wasn't such a mighty big jump," remarked a 
listener. 'T know several fellows who can jump to beat 
141/2 feet." 

'T'll bet a dollar with any or all the men present," said 
I, ''that not one of you can stand still on this floor and 
jump 7 feet." 

I had ten takers. The money was deposited with the 
proprietor; the house was thrown into great excitement. 
The ten jumps were made. But the judges agreed with 
Pod that the jumpers failed to stand still and jump, and 
so handed me the money. Naturally, the jumpers, being 
in a jumping mood, wanted to jump on me next, but they 
finally conciliated, and regarded me thereafter with sus- 
picion. 

Although the roads were reported impassable, we de- 
parted for Medina on Sunday morning, and, the day fol- 
lowing, hastened on toward Lockport. When yet two 
miles to town, after traveling sixteen miles, a boy ran 
after us in the darkness and persuaded me to return to his 
house, as his Pa wished me to be his guest over night ; so 
we did not reach Lockport until eleven next morning. I 
no sooner stabled Mac than I boarded the train for Buf- 
falo in quest of a theatre engagement; failing in that, I 
returned to enjoy a stroke of good luck in the form of an 
engagement for Mac and me to appear on a vaudeville 
stage in Lockport, which netted me a few honest dollars. 

At six o'clock Thursday morning we were off for Buf- 
falo, a twenty-six mile journey. Only once did we stop, 

85 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

when I unsaddled for our mid-day meal at Stormville, 
Mammoth snow-drifts were piled against the fences and 
across the roads which, melting, gave way under my 
donkey's weight, frequently imprisoning his slim legs. 

We reached a school-house near the village of Wil- 
liams ville just as the scholars were dismissed for their 
nooning, and were immediately set upon by a laugh- 
ing, shouting, questioning bevy of frolicsome children, 
who made merry sport of my partner's predicament; he 
was stuck in a snow-drift. If Mac had exerted himself a 
little, he might have climbed out, but he was tired, un- 
usually obstinate, and naturally lazy, and so preferred to 
await developments. 

One precocious genius in the crowd suggested rolling 
the donkey into a snowball, and rolling him to town. 
That was the signal for a general hurrah. I shook my 
head disapprovingly, but, on thinking it over, decided to 
try the novel plan. 

''Come on, boys," I said. And then with peals of mer- 
riment and youthful energy which I never saw equalled, 
the whole lot soon packed the snow about the patient 
animal, until only his head and tail were left exposed ; 
then I gave the word "heave to," and the asinine snow- 
ball began to turn slowly on its axis, and made a com- 
plete revolution. The donkey brayed with laughter ; 
but before he had rolled a dozen times he stopped braying 
and began kicking, or rather made futile efforts to kick. 
A dozen more revolutions and he complained of dizziness, 
but the children only pushed and rolled with renewed 
energy. Larger and larger the snowball grew, until 
finally we had to stop and scale off sufficient snow to en- 
able the good work to go on. And presently it did go on, 
and we rolled the asinine snowball into town amid the 
cheers and laughter of the children, the frightful brays 

86 



AN ASININE SNOWBALL 

of protestation from the imprisoned donkey, and the dumb 
consternation of the villagers. 

Mac, when liberated, rose at once, only to topple over 
on his head. He claimed the earth was turning around, 
which was true enough, although not the way the donkey 
meant. He was too dizzy to stand for some time; each 
effort resulted in a comical physical collapse, that set the 
villagers shrieking with laughter. This was a good time 
for me to profit by Mac's generous entertainment, and 
while telling the assembled crowd all about our travels, I 
sold photos by the dozen. The people opened their pock- 
ets liberally, and before they could recover from the ef- 
fects of the sensation Mac had caused, we pilgrims were 
hurrying out of town, over an easier road to Buffalo. 

In consequence of the snowball affair and several other 
delays, we did not reach the city until after dark. Having 
traveled seventeen miles since lunch, we were ravenously 
hungry. Buffalo presented a beautiful sight, with her 
myriad lights gleaming on the snow. Down Main street, 
I espied a patent night-lunch wagon standing by the curb, 
and hitching Mac to the hind axle, I went in for a bite. 
Suddenly I became conscious that the vehicle was moving, 
and made a hasty exit, to discover I had traveled several 
blocks in the lunch wagon. 

The hard travel Mac had been subjected to for the past 
week necessitated his having a long rest before resuming 
the journey. The morning after our arrival in Buffalo, 
my aristocratic donkey was made the honored guest of the 
Palace Stables, a large and handsome brick building. 
Mac's box stall was on the third floor, and could be 
reached either by an inclined run-way, or an elevator. 
The donkey being unaccustomed to such extravaganzas 
as elevators, chose the inclined plane, and even then he 
put on such airs that it required the united efforts of a 

87 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

half dozen stablemen to escort him to his apartment. 
Once there, he was feted like a nobleman. 

I, too, was lavishly entertained. But of all the cour- 
tesies extended me the most interesting was the invitation 
to stand up with a young Italian wedding party in the 
City Hall, where the Mayor, who sent for me, tied the 
knot. His Honor did the sacred office bravely — until the 
conclusion, when he flunked completely. I'll explain. 

Casimo Mazzette and Rosino Lodico were dago peas- 
ants, born in Palermo, Sicily. The groom was tall and 
proud and embarrassed, although ten years the senior of 
his eighteen-year-old bride, who was too coy to meet his 
gaze. She at first took Pod for a preacher, engaged to 
prompt the Mayor. According to the custom of their na- 
tive heath, they simply joined hands, instead of using a 
wedding-ring, — a very sensible idea, for hard times. The 
pretty ceremony 'Over, the bewitching female benedict 
looked at the Mayor, and moved toward him, and raised 
her face, but the embarrassed Mayor withdrew, to the as- 
tonishment of everyone, explaining that he was married 
to a jealous woman, and asked me to kiss the bride for 
him. He preferred to do the honors by proxy. So, with- 
out comment or hesitation, I stepped up to the pretty 
dago, placed my arm around her to avoid danger of mak- 
ing a bungle of the first kiss I ever gave a woman, drew 
her face to mine, and kissed her squarely on her ruby lips. 
She looked so happy that I was about to repeat the act, 
butherhusband stepped between us. The pair shook hands 
with the Mayor and his clerical-looking assistant, who 
wished them lots of luck and "dagoettes," and then the 
blushing bride fled with her devoted swain out of the hall. 

Next day I accepted for Mac an invitation to a phono- 
graph exhibition in the Ellicott Building. We both at- 
tended and were richer for it. The room was well-filled 

88 



AN ASININE SNOWBALL 

with men and women who eagerly awaited the advertised 
show. When the manager courteously asked what was 
the donkey's favorite style of music I explained that, as 
he was a slow animal, he probably preferred lively music. 
At once the "yellow kid" held the tubes to the donkey's 
ears ; those sensitive organs indicated his delight by each 
alternatively flapping forward and backward; but, sud- 
denly, as they were thrown forward together, the jackass 
kicked an incandescent light globe above into flying frag- 
ments. Women screamed and fell into the arms of the 
men for protection. 

"You said the donkey was gentle," said the manager, 
angrily. 

"So he is," I returned. 

"Then how do you account for such high kicking?" 

"Struck a discord, I presume," I said. "What music 
is in that machine ?" 

The clerk answered. "The first p-p-piece was the 
"Darkey's Dream," said he, with slight impediment of 
speech, "but the s-s-second was "Schneider's Band." 

"Who wouldn't kick!" I exclaimed. Due apologies 
were in order, and confidence was restored, and an hour 
later we two departed with the donkey's earnings and the 
vv^ell wishes of all. 



89 



CHAPTER XI. 

ASININE TABLE OF MEASUREMENT. 

Nine square inches make one foot, 
Four all-around feet make one jackass, 
One cross jackass makes three kicks, 
Two hard kicks make one corpse; 
Corpse, kicks, jackass, feet — 
How many doggies do we meet? 

— Dogeared Doggerels . 

From which table we may safely conclude there is one 
dog less in the world, and that, estimating him by his 
kicks, Mac is a jackass and a half. 

If I had kept a complete record of the breeds, sorts, col- 
ors, and conditions of the canines, the pups and curs we 
met with on the road from New York, I might have com- 
piled a book larger than Trow's New York City Directory, 
which still would exclude the mongrels and all unclassi- 
fied "wags" and "barks" of the country sausage-districts. 

From a financial point of view, I was disappointed with 
our four-days' sojourn in Buffalo, but Mac and I were 
rested, and the weather was milder. The winds from 
Lake Erie had swept the snow off the roads against the 
fences where it didn't belong, so that my partner had to 
drag the sled out of Buffalo over a dry and rutty highway. 
There were, however, several places where the elements 
had shown a grudge against the farmers by piHng huge 
snow drifts across the road to impede their travel and 
maliciously blowing the white spread from the fields of 
winter wheat which required its protecting warmth, 

90 



ONE BORE IS ENOUGH 

Directly on reaching Hamburg, we were taken in 
charge by a Mr. Kopp (Mac had predicted a cop would 
have us before long), and given a warm reception. On 
the way to Eaton's Corners, six miles beyond, I undertook 
to earn fifty cents in an extraordinary manner; some 
might call it a hoggish manner. A farmer hailed me from 
a barnyard, and asked if he could sell me a boar. 

"Boar!" I exclaimed, almost losing my breath; and I 
added : "No, sir ; one boar is enough." 

"Well, then, do yer want to make a half dollar?" he 
called. 

"Course I do — more than anxious," I answered. 

"Then jes' help me drag this 'ere hog ter town most; 
Squire Birge has bought it, and I've agreed ter deliver it 
or bust." 

"Let's see it," I said. "Don't know much about hogs, 
but I'll know more, I guess, when I see yours." 

I followed the man, Mac tagging close behind. Behold ! 
A docile looking hog of mastodon dimensions was con- 
veying the contents of a corn crib to its inner self. I 
walked around the beast several times to count his good 
points, and closed the bargain. 

An end of a rope was fastened to the hog's hind foot, 
and the other end wound round the pommel of the saddle. 
Then I gave the infuriated donkey the whip. A tug of 
war followed; presently the rope snapped, and donkey 
and hog were hurled in opposite directions, both turning 
somersaults. Luckily my rifle escaped injury. The hog 
lost the kink in his tail ; he looked mad, and with his 
vicious stares, frightened Mac half to death. Finally the 
rope was again adjusted, and an exciting scene ensued. 
The velocity of the vibrations of that hog's roped foot, 
trying to kick loose, put electricity to shame. When the 
donkey eased up a little, the boar showed its true character 

91 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

by starting for the barn, pulling Mac after him ; while, on 
the other hand, when the hog stopped for wind, the 
donkey would make a dive for town and drag him un- 
til he also had to pause for breath. So those obdurate 
beasts worked rather than played at cross-purposes for 
half an hour before I forfeited my contract and proceeded 
on over the frozen road. 

We reached Angola by seven, and Farnham at ten 
o'clock. There we were comfortably quartered ; Mac was 
rubbed with liniment, fed and watered, while I, too late 
for supper, retired with an empty stomach. 

The Lake Shore road threads some thrifty-looking 
towns. The country was dotted with neatly painted barns 
and cozy houses, surrounded by energetic windmills and 
inert live-stock, while denuded vineyards laced the frosted 
shores for miles about. We lunched at Silver Creek, 
where a burly denizen tried to sell me a big dog, which, 
he claimed, would tear an ox into pieces. The price 
named was $5. Neither man nor dog made an impression 
on me. 

When I finally drew rein in Dunkirk, at 7 130 P. M., 
the hotel was alive with commercial men who quickly sur- 
rounded us. In ten minutes I sold enough chromos to 
pay our expenses over night and purchase a new breast- 
band for Mac. 

Prior to February 12, Lincoln's Birthday, I traveled 
so rapidly (even with a donkey), that events somewhat 
confused me ; following the shore of Lake Erie, I visited 
a dozen towns or more, sometimes several in a single day. 

I had no sooner disfigured the guest register of the 
New Hotel, Fredonia, with my odd signature than I dis- 
covered the illustrious name of Geo. W. Cable on the line 
above mine. It seemed a strange coincidence that two 
such famous men as Cable and Pod should be so unex- 

92 






ONE BORE IS ENOUGH 

pectedly crowded together in that Httle book, in a Httle 
inn, in that town. Natural enough and pursuant to the 
Law of Affinities, I immediately sent my card to the cele- 
brated author, who at once invited the eccentric traveler to 
his room. Mr. Cable had been reclining, having just ar- 
rived by train. He gave me a complimentary ticket to his 
lecture, that evening, which I placed in my pocket, and 
later gave to the hotel clerk for discounting my bill. 

"What a pretty place this must be in summer," was the 
author's initiatory remark, while twisting a yawn into a 
smile. 

*'Yes, indeed," I answered, and stretched my legs. 
'And how do you stand the journey." 
'Oh, fairly well ; getting in better condition every day." 
'You are a slender man. Professor, but I assume, very 
wiry, like the cables." 

The conversation continued until I felt the strain, and 
I presently shook hands, and wishing him a full house, de- 
parted. The author-lecturer is a little under stature ; he 
wore a genial smile and frock coat ; his eyes were as bright 
as duplex burners; and he shook hands just as other peo- 
ple do. 

It was long after dark when we travelers ambled into 
Brockton and put up for the night. 

Mac and I had passed the day in the village of Ripley. 
The Raines Law did not seem to have a salutary effect on 
that section of the State. I met on the road that after- 
noon a tall, lank, tipsy fellow, carrying a long muzzle- 
loader gun. He stopped me, and said he was a Western- 
er, a half-breed, and fifty years old. "Been out shootin' 
mavericks," he said importantly. "Same gun (hie) had 
in th' Rockies. I'm gentle, though — gentle as a kitten." 
I was charmed to know he was not hostile, said "So long," 
and hurried on. 

93 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Sunday was Valentine's Day. I received a few doubt- 
fully appropriate souvenirs, but did not discover the name 
of a single friend in the batch. Before leaving Ripley I 
was presented with a large and handsome dog, a cross be- 
tween the bloodhound and the mastiff, a pup weighing 
98 pounds, which I named Donkeyota. The generous 
donor was a Mr. W. W. Rickenbrode, who accompanied 
me some distance to assist me in handling the huge ani- 
mal, in case of emergency. He had no sooner bade me 
good-bye than I feared lest I should not be able to make 
another mile that day. The wind blew a hurricane. 
While passing a cemetery, I took a snap-shot of square 
grave-stones, which photograph shows them rolling in 
that driving gale. It was the most wonderful demonstra- 
tion of the wind's power I ever witnessed. 

Shortly afterward, in descending a steep and icy road 
into a gully the sled with its burden ran against my 
donkey's heels, upset him, and carried him half way down 
the hill. In my anxiety and haste to assist Mac, and hold 
on to my hat, I dropped the dog's chain, and away he went 
kiting down hill after the sled ; and I needed four hands. 
To my surprise, the dog, Don, seemed to enjoy the enter- 
tainment, and instead of fleeing back to Ripley, rolled in 
the snow and barked in glee. 

We reached the Half Way House, Harbor Creek, after 
dark. Next morning after breakfast the landlord's little 
daughter came rushing into the house to impart the thrill- 
ing news that John, their horse, had a little colt ; and, en- 
thusiastically leading us to the stable, she pointed to my 
donkey and said, "There ! see ?" Mac A'Rony turned his 
head and regarded the little one with a comical expression 
on his countenance, as much as to say, "If I brayed, you'd 
think me a Colt's revolver." 

Upon entering the city of Erie, Pa., the Transfer Com- 

94 



ONE BORE IS ENOUGH 

pany sent an invitation to Mac A'Rony and Donkeyota 
to be its guests ; I sought a leading hotel, and busied my- 
self with my newspaper article. Tuesday, late in the day, 
we started for Fairview, twelve miles beyond. We passed 
many jolly sleighing parties, some of whom stopped to 
chat with me, and share with me refreshments, and pur- 
chase my chromos; and one sleigh load promised to en- 
tertain me royally at the hotel. They kept their word, and 
after refreshments and an hour's rest, we resumed the 
journey in the light of the full moon, arriving at Girard 
by 9 130. Next morning, the village constable arrested my 
attention and persuaded me to act as auctioneer at a ven- 
due; by which deal I made some money. I worded the 
hand-bill as follows : 

AUCTION SALE. 

Monday, February 15th, 1897. 
The farm of Jeremy Shimm, its buildings, live- 
stock, farming utensils and implements, its crops 
and its woodland, its weals and its woes, including the 
following named articles and belongings, will 
be sold under hammer this day at 10 a. m. : 
Barns and sheds, and other stable articles, 
pens and pig-pens, hen-roosts, dog-kennels, 
house and smoke-house, step-ladders, dove-cotes, 
buggies, wagons, traps and rat-traps, plows, 
sows, cows, bow-wows, hay-mows, sleds, beds, sheds, drills, 
wills and mills, wagon-jacks and boot-jacks, 
yoke of oxen, yolk of eggs, horse-clippers, 
sheep-shears, horse-rakes, garden-rakes, cradles, 
corn-cribs and baby-cribs, cultivators, lawn 
mowers, corn-shellers, chickens and coops, roosters 
and weathercocks, swine, wine, harrows, wheel- 
barrows, bows-and-arrows, stoves, work horses, sawhorses, 
axles and axle-grease, axes, cider, carpets, 
tables, chairs, wares, trees, bees, cheese, etc. 
By orders of the TOWN CONSTABLE, 
Hank Kilheffer, 
I Pythagoras Pod, Auctioneer. 

95 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

The dodgers were speedily printed and circulated in all 
directions — sown broadcast, as it were — and, it being a 
windy day, they flew like scudding snow-flakes over every 
farm for miles around. 

A great throng assembled to witness the extraordinary 
event, and to take advantage of bargains with the traveler- 
auctioneer, who, mounted on a pile of wood, with plug 
hat in hand, yelled at the top of his voice and finally dis- 
posed of the rubbish. The art of auctioneering seemed 
to come to me by inspiration, and the enthusiastic farmers 
and towns-people swarmed around me, eager to secure a 
trophy of the notable sale. 

"Three superb harrows are now to be sold, and will be 
sold, if I have to buy them myself — seventy-two tooth, 
thirty-six tooth and false tooth harrows ; harrows with 
wisdom teeth, eye teeth and grinders, will grind up the 
soil and corn-stubble in a harrowing manner, and cultivate 
the acquaintance of the earth better than any other kinds 
made. How much am I offered ?" As I yelled, I felt that 
I had strained my voice. 

"One dollar," called a granger to set the ball rolling. 

"One dollar, one dollar, one dollar — going one dollar — 
gone one dollar — to the bow-legged gentleman over 
there, with albino eyebrows — ''This way, sir!'' I shouted. 
"Constable, please take his name, and chain him to the 
wood pile." 

In this manner it didn't take me long to dispose of the 
farm, including the soil four thousand miles deep, and the 
air forty-five miles high. I finished the ordeal by noon, 
was paid my fee, and then discourteously told that I had 
realized several hundred dollars less from the sale than 
the constable himself could have done. Still every pur- 
chaser admitted he was more than satisfied with my gen- 

96 



ONE BORE IS ENOUGH 

erous conduct, shook my hand, bought a chromo and ex- 
pressed the desire to meet me again. And that was a 
thing that does not happen always in connection with 
vendues. 



97 



CHAPTER XII. 

I do love these ancient ruins. 
We never tread upon them but we set 
Our foot upon some reverend history. 

— Duchess of Malfy. 

I did not tarry long in Girard, but spent the night in 
West Springfield. Thursday morning I escaped from the 
Keystone into the Buckeye State, eating dinner in Con- 
neaut. As the sleighing had disappeared, I shipped my 
little sled home, as a relic of the trip, and packed my grip 
in the saddle, as of old. 

After a short rest in Ashtabula, we climbed a hill by 
the South Ridge road, where I got a fine view of the city, 
and soon lost ourselves in the darkness. 

Presently a farmer drove up in a rickety wagon and be- 
gan to coax me to accept of his hospitality for the night. 
He deftly explained that he would care for me and my 
animals until after breakfast for fifty cents. 

I decided to avail myself of the invitation, and Mac 
congratulated me on my display of good sense. I, too, 
slapped myself on the shoulder ; I was ready to sup and go 
right to bed. In a short time both donk and dog were 
comfortably stabled, and I was introduced to the family. 
The noises from the lighted kitchen had faintly intimated 
to me the sort of den into which I was allured. It con- 
tained the noisiest lot of children that ever blessed a 
household. 

"Are these all yours ?" I inquired, politely. 

"Nope," answered Mr. Cornbin. "Ye see, this 'ere's 

98 



AT A COUNTRY DANCE 

sort of a half-way house ;" the man smiled, and poked 
some cheap tobacco into his corn-cob pipe. "There's go- 
in' to be a dance down to Plimton's to-night and all our 
friends from around 've fetched in their babies for George 
Buck — he's our hired man — to take care of. Like to 
dance, eh? Better go 'long — fine women going ter be 
there — here's plug, if ye want a chew — no? That's 
smokin' terbaccer on the table by yer. We're plain 
folks, but you're welcome to the best we've got." 

Mrs. C. prepared me a supper which went right to the 
spot. She advised me to go to the dance, by all means. 
I had made up my mind to that as soon as the word 
"dance" was mentioned; the "kids" would have driven 
me crazy in short order, had I remained with Buck. 

One by one the mothers of the hilarious "brats" came 
in ; then we all got our wraps on. I expected, of course, 
we were going to ride, but no, the whole party walked. 
My hostess took her own babe with her. She would 
leave the hired man in charge of her neighbors' children, 
but was too wise to entrust her own child with him and 
the lamp. 

When we reached our destination I was introduced to 
four grangers playing "seven up," and told to make my- 
self comfortable. "Choose your woman. Professor," 
said Mr. Cornbin, "an' show 'em how you kin manage 
yer feet on a waxed floor." 

Sure enough, the floor was waxed. The garret was 
converted into a veritable ball-room. Two rows of up- 
right scantling crossed in the center of the room and 
propped the snow-laden roof, and through these uprights, 
some twenty inches apart, glided the bluejeans and 
overalls, calico and cambric skirts, with as much energy 
and pride as might be squeezed out of a city cotillion. 
The fiddlers and caller were mounted on a board platform 
L of C. ^g 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

at one end of the "hall." They sawed away and shouted, 
and wore out more enthusiasm, catgut and shoe-leather 
than I ever saw wasted in the same length of time. 

There were all sorts of dances and dancers. I myself 
tackled the Virginia reel, Lancers, Quadrille, Caledonia, 
Polka, Hornpipe, Mazourka, a Spanish dance, the Irish 
Washwoman, and several others. The favorite music was 
"Pussy in the Rainbarrel ;" it served for a half dozen dif- 
ferent dances. I never liked the music — a sort of wind- 
pipe or bagpipe which allowed no breathing-spell from 
start to finish. In my second dance I went off my feet, 
my head caught under the sloping roof, and the floor mas- 
ter had to knock my "pins" from under me to get me 
loose. 

There was one pretty girl there, and I tried to engage 
her for a dance, but every time I approached her she shied 
away ; at last, she got used to my odd appearance, and al- 
lowed me to clasp her to my bosom in a waltz. Just as we 
got started, the dance closed, and the caller shouted to 
choose partners for a square dance. My pretty partner 
agreed to dance it with me ; I could see several of her ad- 
mirers looking "daggers" at me. 

"Forward; right and left!" sounded the call. "Lead 
yer partners round the outside !" 

I thought the caller meant the outside of the house, and 
started down stairs, but was soon stopped, and the call 
explained to me. 

"Alaman left! — grand right and left! — half way and 
back — change partners, and four ladies salute! — balance 
again and swing the opposite lady !" 

That succession of calls completely demoralized me. I 
got all mixed up, and soon found myself clasping an up- 
right instead of somebody's partner, and concluded my 

100 



AT A COUNTRY DANCE 

part by violently sitting on the floor. After that I con- 
tented myself with looking on. 

Although the two prettiest features of the ball — the 
Minuette and the St. Vitus Dance — had not yet taken 
place, I felt more than satisfied, and bidding my friends 
good morning, set out for the Cornbin domicile. 

After a late breakfast of tea, bread, salt pork and fried 
potatoes, I started for Geneva. 

All through New York State people had supposed on 
seeing me that "Uncle Tom's Cabin" had ''busted," and 
that Marks, the lawyer, was homeward bound with his 
mule. In Ohio, the curious countrymen inquired if I was 
on my way to join Maine's Circus, at its winter quarters, 
Geneva. Mac, as well as I, was quite sensitive over these 
inquiries. Through the driving snow-storm we managed 
to reach a hotel where, after a noon meal, I led my ani- 
mals on to Madison. 

When a half mile yet to the village we passed the Old 
Woman's Home, which I visited the following morning, 
Sunday. The man who planned it was a genius. The 
rooms of the commodious building were fitted up to suit 
the whims of the most fastidious fossils of second child- 
hood. Paintings and plaster bas-reliefs of old women 
knitting, washing false teeth, and sewing, decorated the 
walls. Sewing baskets, crazy quilts, dolls, and paper sol- 
diers were strewn about the rooms. The most novel of 
all departments was the dental and hirsute Check Room, 
where the old ladies checked their false teeth, wigs, cork 
legs, etc., when they happened in disuse. A little brass 
ring containing a number is given the owner of the ar- 
ticle to be checked, so that it may be preserved in good 
condition, and not get lost. Incidents are cited where 
very old women, during intervals of temporary aberra- 
tion, have got their checks mixed and tried to wear an 

lOI 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

extra set of teeth, or an additional wig; and it is said 
that once a woman with two normal legs endeavored to 
hook on a cork leg. But when we consider the great age 
of the inmates, such cases are quite pardonable. 

From the next town, Painesville, we went to the home 

of President Garfield. Mr. R , who had the care of 

the handsome residence, invited me in to rest, and sup. I 
was shown all of the beautiful and interesting rooms. In 
the spacious hall hung a large photograph of Milan Ca- 
thedral, and in the upstairs hall, a portrait of Washington 
and an engraving of Lincoln. In the General's favorite 
study, I was permitted to sit in the large easy chairs 
where he had found comfort after his mental labors and 
inspiration for his speeches and debates, and regarded the 
bric-a-brac and furniture with more awe and reverence 
than I had ever felt upon visiting the homes of the 
the great. 

Two miles beyond Mentor is Kirtland, once a thriving 
Mormon camp. It is situated at considerable distance 
from the direct route to Cleveland, and it took us over a 
distressingly muddy road, and through such intense dark- 
ness that I soon lost my bearings. Seeing the gleam of a 
lamp in a window, I went up to the house to inquire the 
way to the tavern. The owner insisted on our being his 
guests, and I felt very grateful. My animals were as- 
signed to a shed, and I was invited to a hot supper, which 
my good hostess hastily prepared. 

I soon discovered that I was among spiritualists, as well 
as Latter Day Saints. My Host, Mr. J , was an elder- 
ly man, and well informed. He said much about Joseph 
Smith. He himself was born in Kirtland some eighty 
years back, and had often listened to the preachings of 
the founder of Mormonism. In those days Kirtland con- 
tained about 2,000 inhabitants; but all that remained of 

102 



AT A COUNTRY DANCE 

the town are two stores, a shop, and a dozen or so little 
houses, half of which I found to be occupied by itinerant 
preachers of the "Latter Day Saints." 

My host said he firmly believed in Spiritualism, and 
dwelt at length on communication between the material 
and spiritual world. Finally he strode to my chair and felt 
of my cranium. 

''Why Prof.," said he enthusiastically, "you are a 
medium yourself. All you require is a little study of the 
science. Spiritualism is merely the science of material- 
ism." I shivered audibly. 

''And do you mean to tell me," I said, "that you believe 
honestly you can see the ghost, or the spirit of the de- 
parted?" 

"I know it," Mr. J returned, emphatically. "I have 

felt the spirit of the departed. One night at a seance I 
saw my little step-daughter who had been dead many 
years. I heard her call to me "papa." She put her arms 
round my neck, and kissed me on the lips. Then she dis- 
appeared. Of course, I know it ! I saw her, I heard her, 
I felt her ; isn't that proof enough ?" 

I told my host that he was certainly convinced, but I 
wasn't. I then bade him and his wife good night, and 
was ushered to my chamber. There I pulled the clothes 
over my head, and tried to attribute my shivers to the 
cold. 

When I awoke next morning and searched in my grip 
for my razor and found in place of it a "Toledo Blade," I 
began to suspect some supernatural being had robbed me. 

Before leaving Kirtland my host persuaded me to be 
shown the famous Temple and the^ house in which the 
Prophet, Joseph Smith, lived. The Temple of the Latter 
Day Saints there standing, is probably the only church 
of three stories in the country. I climbed to the tower 

103 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

that surmounts it, and got a fine view of the spot where 
once stood the house of Brigham Young. The arrange- 
ment of the inner temple was quite novel. At both ex- 
tremities of the main hall, or nave, was a series of four 
rows of white-painted seats, lettered in gilt to represent 
the several orders of the Priests of Melchizedek. Long 
rows of rings hung from the ceiling, crossing each other 
in places, from which were once suspended curtains to di- 
vide the nave into rooms for the sessions of 
the different orders, and in the white square pillars might 
still be seen the rollers and pulleys with which the cur- 
tains were drawn. 

Said Mr. J , "I have heard Joseph Smith shout from 

that pulpit and tell how the Mormons would yet build 
a temple still larger, to answer their future needs, and 
some day in the future another one a mile square ; that 
they were the chosen people, and would send mission- 
aries to convert all Europe, after which they proposed to 
sweep in America to a man. Soon after that proclamation 
he moved West with a large following. There they re- 
organized, and the new order assumed the title of 'The 
Latter Day Saints.' " 

Traveling that day was most disheartening in more 
ways than one. The roads were awful, my exchequer 
extremely low. Fortunately, on the way to Willoughby 
a farmer offered to feed me and my partner, provided 
we would help him saw some wood. 

Mac supervised the work. After we sawed off a sec- 
tion of a log, the farmer handed me the axe, but soon 
took it from me, saying that I couldn't chop any better 
than I could saw. Then we ate. 



104 




"Mac supcrz'iscd the zcork." 




'Only time I got ahead of him." 



CHAPTER XIII. 

As Bud bestrode the donkey the cheers of the throng rose, 
but above the tumult he could hear the North End jeering at him. 
— Much Pomp and Several Circumstances. 

From Willoughby we went to Cleveland. My route 
through the beautiful city lay along one of the finest resi- 
dence streets in America — the famous Euclid avenue. 

From there we marched to Superior street, where 
cheers greeted us on every hand. The papers had her- 
alded my advent, and as in the other towns and cities, the 
newspaper artists had taxed their imaginations to picture 
Pod and Mac. 

We two were engaged to appear at the Star Theatre 
Wednesday evening, and when I rode out on to the stage 
the house shook with laughter and cheers. I made a short 
address and announced that I would sell photos of Mac 
A'Rony and his master at the door. 

• That theatre put me way ahead financially. Thursday 
morning I called on the Mayor, Mark Hanna and Senator 
Garfield, and added the autographs of all three to my al- 
bum. Mr. Garfield invited me to attend the weekly din- 
ner and reception of the ''Beer and Skittles Club," that 
evening. I went and enjoyed myself. 

Next day I reached the village of Bedford by 7:00 P. 
M., only making thirteen miles ; and the following night I 
put up at a cozy inn at Cuyahoga Falls. We three had 
covered eighteen miles that day ; it seemed twice the dis- 
tance. I was almost frozen. All day I held my once 
frost-bitten nose in my woolen mittens, and my ears were 

los 



A PECULIAR COLD DAY 

wrapped in a silk muffler. In the morning a man hailed 
me : "Cold day !" 

''Yes, pretty chilly," I returned, politely. 

A half mile on a farmer opened the door and yelled : 

'Tretty cold, hain't it. Professor?" 

"You bet," said Pod, icily. 

Some distance further a fat German drove by in a gig 
and said : "It vash cold — don't it ?" 

" 'Course it's cold !" I answered, acridly. 

A mile beyond two men reminded me it was a very win- 
try day. 

Then a woman drove past and tossed me the comfort- 
ing reminder : "Don't you find it awfully cold ?" I did not 
reply to the last two. 

Twenty minutes later a boy, from a cozy home, yelled 
to me. I had passed to some distance, and did not un- 
derstand. It sounded like, "Won't you come in and 
warm, and have lunch." I hesitated a moment in the biting 
wind, then retraced my steps and called to the lad: 
"What's that you said ?" 

"It's a cold day!" yelled the scamp. 

I was mad enough to unload my Winchester. But I 
didn't; I only tucked my half-frozen nose in my mits, 
rubbed my ears, and continued my journey, like an ice- 
covered volcano. A mile beyond a wagon with a family 
in it passed me, and the man said, "Cold, my friend." At 
dusk a farmer inquired, "Hasn't it been a pretty frigid 
day?" The human volcano was now ready to burst. So 
when a man and woman warmly clad drove by in a buggy, 
with top up, I resolved to get even. I shouted several 
times before the rig stopped. A fur-clad head stuck out 
to one side, and a male voice called : "Can't hear ye ; come 
nearer." I ambled up, put a foot on the hub of a wheel, 
and said, "I simply want to say, it's a cold day." 

ip6 



A PECULIAR COLD DAY 

"You ' ' ' ' ' ' " "" 

As soon as he had finished, I said, by way of civil 
explanation : "My dear sir, do you know, a hundred peo- 
ple have stopped me to-day and told me it is cold. I have 
tramped nearly twenty miles without stopping to warm or 
eat; and I resolved to let the next fellow have the same 
dose I have been taking half-hourly all day. Now, if you 
are satisfied that it is a cold day, I will bid you good 
night." 

With this I returned to my companions, somewhat 
warmer physically, but cooler in spirit. 

The hotel in Cuyahoga Falls received us most hospit- 
ably; I never shall forget the kindnesses of its landlady. 
The village dates back to pioneer days. It is built on the 
hunting grounds of the old Cuyahoga Indians. 

Monday, March ist, at 12:30 P. M., we arrived in 
Canton. 

The citizens expected my arrival, and Market street 
teemed with excitement. In front of two hotels, a block 
apart, stood their proprietors waving hats and arms, and 
calling to me to be their guest. I was puzzled to know 
which invitation to accept. While deliberating, one of the 
landlords approached, and taking my arm, led me to his 
comfortable hostelry, where he royally entertained me and 
my animals. 

The pageant that celebrated the departure of William 
McKinley to the seat of Government was a fair estimate of 
the regard in which his fellow-citizens held him. Canton 
did him honor. I witnessed the leave-taking at his house, 
his ride to the train in the coach drawn by four greys un- 
der escort of a band, and heard him deliver his farewell 
address from the rear platform of his private car. 

I spent Wednesday night in Massillon, and next morn- 
ing returned to Canton, to take some interior protographs 

107 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

of McKinley's home. I was successful, beyond my hopes 
and expectations, securing fine pictures of his study and 
parlor. The President's inauguration at Washington 
called forth a deafening demonstration. Cannon boomed, 
steam whistles shrieked, and the citizens shouted and 
hurrahed, and I was glad Mac was not with me to add 
his salute. 

I returned to Massillon, and at 4 :oo P. M., set out for 
Dalton over the muddiest, stickiest red-clay roads I ever 
encountered. I saw a meadow-lark on the first of March ; 
this day I heard blue-birds and robins singing gaily. It 
looked as though spring had come to stay. 

I expected that day to reach Dalton, only eight miles 
distant, but the mud prevented me. I put my foot in it — 
the genuine red and yellow mixture of real Ohio clay. It 
was so deep, and sticky, and liberally diluted with thawed 
frost that once I was compelled to crawl along the top of 
a rail fence two hundred feet and more, and drag my 
jackass. At dusk I had covered only three miles. Then 
I sought lodgings. A store loomed into view shortly; I 
was elated. According to the sign over the entrance, the 
younger generation was the ruling power. It read: 
"Hezekiah Brimley and Father." I made for Hez. He 
said the town hadn't reached the hotel stage of develop- 
ment yet, but that he would gladly take me in, provided 
Fd sleep with his clerk in the garret. 

I found the store full of loungers, who patronized the 
chairs, soap and starch boxes, mackerel kits and counter, 
forming a silent circle round a towering stove in the cen- 
ter. The village treasurer wore a "boiled shirt" and brass 
collar-buttons, but no collar or coat. His companions 
were generally attired in flannel shirts of different hues 
and patterns, plush caps, which might be formed into sev- 
eral shapes and styles, and felt boots encased in heavy 

108 



A PECULIAR COLD DAY 

overshoes. These rural men eyed me with suspicion until 
I mentioned Mac A'Rony. Then there was a rush to the 
door. As it swung open, in leaped my great dog ; at once 
the crowd surged back to the stove. 

"Does yer dorg bite ?" came several queries in a bunch. 

"No," I said. "He has killed a bull, chewed up a ram,, 
made Thanks-giving mince-meat of several dogs, chased 
a pig up a tree, and only this morning ate two chickens 
and a duck and chased a farmer into his hay loft.. But he 
doesn't bite." 

My statement had a sensational effect on the assembly, 
who, one by one, sneaked out. of the door, leaving Hez and 
his odd guest alone. As soon as the junior member, Hez's 
father, came in, Hez took my animals to the shed and fed 
them, and told me to help myself to the best in the store. 
"Ye know what ye want ; I don't." 

Hez said he was sorry he was just out of butter and 
bread. I was sorry, too. Wishing a light supper, I se- 
lected one yeast cake (warranted 104 per cent, pure), a 
pint of corned oysters (light weight), some crackers, and 
leaf lard, to take the place of butter, and a cake of bitter 
chocolate. I left a few things unmolested ; such as soap, 
cornstarch, cloves, baking-powder and stove-polish. 

My assorted supper went down all right until I tackled 
the chocolate. Chocolate is a favorite beverage of mine; 
besides, I wanted a hot drink. To be good, chocolate must 
be well dissolved. No pot was to be had, save a flower- 
pot with a hole in the bottom. A great idea popped into 
my head. I would drink chocolate on the instalment 
plan. Did you ever try it ? H not, don't let your curiosity 
get the better of you. 

Chocolate belongs to the bean family, and the bean is a 
very treacherous thing — chocolate bean, castor-oil bean, 
pork-bean, and all kinds. I first ate the cake of chocolate, 

109 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

then some sugar, and drank two dippersful of hot water, — 
then shook myself. That mixture might suit my stomach, 
I thought, but it doesn't deUght my palate. I felt I had 
eaten a heavy meal unwittingly, and sat down to digest it. 
I hadn't sat long before I felt myself swelling. Something 
within was sizzling and brewing and steaming; gas and 
steam choked me. I was sure there was going to be a 
demonstration in my honor that I had not bargained for. 
The yeast cake came to mind ; then I knew the cause. My 
body grew warm, and finally I was so hot that I had to go 
to the garret and take a cold bath ; after which I excused 
myself to the clerk, and went to bed, and dreamed I was 
being cremated alive. 

Next morning, on invitation of the superintendent, I 
visited the Pocock Coal Mine, situated close by, and had 
an enjoyable trip through its subterranean passages. 



no 



CHAPTER XIV. 

This day Dame Nature seemed in love : 
The lusty sap began to move ; 
Fresh juice did stir th' embracing Vines, 
And birds had drawn their Valentines. 

— The Complete Angler. 

It was noon v^hen I started for Dalton, three miles 
away, and night before we arrived there. The mud 
oozed into my overshoes, and I made Mac carry me and 
my grip. . I delivered a lecture, whose receipts about de- 
frayed my expenses, and was presented a pair of rubber 
boots by a man frank enough to admit the boots didn't fit 
him. 

We spent the Sabbath in Wooster. While strolling 
down its main street with my dog, I suddenly came upon 
a captive coyote, which defied Don, who ran off in a 
fright. That monster canine fell considerably in my es- 
timation. I wondered what he would do when our camps 
on the plains were surrounded with a hundred of these 
yelping beasts. 

Wooster, rather a pretty town, is the seat of a univer- 
sity. The word "seat" reminds me that I needed a pair 
of trousers. The rainy season had set in, and I wanted a 
reserve pair. Otherwise, when my only pair got soaked 
I must go to bed until they dried. I walked into a Jewish 
clothier's, and, selecting a pair of corduroys, inquired, 
"How much ?" 

"Two doUahs ond a hollaf," said the merchant. He in- 
formed me that in Mansfield the same "pants" would cost 

III 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

$3, in Fort Wayne $5, in Chicago $7, etc." I said that 
according to his way of reckoning I could have purchased 
the same kind of trousers in Dalton for $2, in Massillon 
for $1, and in Canton for a song. My argument stag- 
gered him, but he soon recovered, and showed me a 
great colored picture, repiesenting a pair of cordu- 
roys, one leg chained to an elephant, the other hooked to a 
locomotive, and both powers working in opposite direc- 
tions to part those wonderful trousers. 

"Just vot you vant vor riding a jockoss; can't bull 
abart ; vy, my dear sir, it's a bargain." That was a strong 
argument ; I bought the "pants." 

Passing on through Jeromeville and Mifflin, we reached 
Mansfield, the home of Senator Sherman; and sixteen 
miles beyond Galion. That lovely spring day, with the 
birds chirping merrily in the trees, my pilgrimage seemed 
unusually irksome. Next day was my birthday, and I re- 
solved to make it a holiday. 

I enjoyed a day of recreation, so did my donkey and 
dog, and in the evening delivered a lecture on my travels 
before a campaign league at its club house. 

On Friday morning I started for the town of Marion, 
twenty-six miles away. Many citizens of Galion as- 
sembled to see us off. Mac and Don were impatient for 
the journey, and amused the crowd by pulling each other's 
whiskers. I had boasted of having trained Mac A'Rony 
to follow me. When I set out with a wave of my hat and 
a beckon to my partner, he responded promptly, and for 
some distance verified my boasts. He never before had 
acted so tractable. Suddenly, a cheer sounded in the dis- 
tance, and, turning, I beheld that asinine rascal making 
back to town on a hop-skip-and-jump. How the crowd 
did yell! It was a circus for them. Mac certainly had 
rested too long and eaten too many oats. The only time 

112 



<<1 



I BARGAIN FOR EGGS 

I got ahead of him was when I photographed him. I 
did not upbraid him, but when I readjusted my scattered 
belongings and whirled the whip over his head, he moved 
forward with utmost humility. 

At Caledonia, I took advantage of the farmers' mar- 
ket day and sold a large number of photos at a good price. 
I could not appear anywhere on the street without some 
rural stranger stopping me to shake hands and purchase a 
chromo. Saturday evening I lectured to a crowded 
house. 

It was 4 130 P. M. Sunday before I started to Kenton, 
twenty-seven miles beyond. When nearly there, I passed 
a small farm whose rural incumbent came to the fence 
to question me. 

'Goin' ter show to-night?" he inquired. 

'Nope," I answered, and kept Mac A'Rony moving. 

'Hold a minute ! — Be ye travelin' er goin' somewhere ?" 
the man persisted, as he leaned over the fence-rail. He 
interested me. 

"When you see people walking," I returned, bringing 
my donkey to halt, "you can take it for granted, they 
are going somewhere." 

The lonesome-looking farmer was the first I had met 
who was neither busy at work nor whittling. Gray locks 
fell wantonly over his ears. His faded coat, blue over- 
alls and felt boots exhibited signs of a persistent conflict 
with farm implements, hooking cows, kicking horses, and 
a rich clayey soil. A cow and two hogs eyed my donkey 
and dog with contempt through the bars of the barnyard 
fence. I observed that all the buildings, including the 
house, were of logs. The man, judging from his prop- 
erty, didn't have a dollar in the world, but had great ex- 
pectations. He asked if I had any books to sell. I had 
one, a copy of a volume I had published, several of which 

113 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I had sold on my journey at a good price. I had lost 
fifteen valuable minutes talking with the man, and re- 
solved to get even. While wondering what I could take in 
exchange for the book, a hen cackled. 

"Certainly. I have a book to sell," I said. 

"How much is it?" 

"Dollar and a half." 

"I'd buy it," said the farmer, longingly, "but I hain't 
got the price." 

"Have you got any eggs ?" I asked. 

"Dozens of 'em. How many kin ye suck at a sittin' ?" 

"I don't wish to suck them ; I want them to sell," I re- 
plied. "How much do you ask a dozen ?" 

"Six cents," he answered. 

"Well," I said, "I will trade the book for ten dozen. Is 
that a bargain ? It looks like a cinch for you." 

"I meant a book about yer travels t' San Francisco," he 
explained, as he looked far away. 

"Well, that's just what it is," I returned, bound to make 
a sale, or die in the attempt. "Tells all about them : how 
robbers shot at me in York State, bull chased me down 
a well in Pennsylvania, dog worried me up a tree in 
Illinois, cowboys rescued me from Indians in the Rocky 
Mountains, grizzly bear hugged " 

"Whew," ejaculated the man. "Thet's what I want. 
Ye got yer book aout purty soon. Wait till I go and fetch 
th' eggs." And the apparently ignorant man disappeared, 
soon to re-appear with a paper sack full of hen fruit. 

"Fresh ?" I inquired, as I tied the fragile bundle to the 
saddle-horn. 

"Couldn't be fresher," was the positive answer. "Some 
laid terday, some yisterday, but most on 'em ter-morrer." 
Then observing my arched brows, he added, "Yaas — yer 
thunk I was a know-nuthin', and I let yer think so," 'cause 

114 



I BARGAIN FOR EGGS 

yer need 'couragement. And I say agin, most on 'em was 
laid ter-morrer, and th' best on 'em is rooster eggs." 

I delivered the book, feeling the farmer had somewhat 
the better of me after all, and came to the conclusion that 
because a man looks primitive, and lives in primitive style, 
he is not necessarily of primitive intellect. 

Mac joined in a pleasant adieu to Mr. Bosh, and we 
sauntered on, I, behind, deeply absorbed in thought. We 
hadn't proceeded a half mile, however, before Mac shied 
at a bunch of hay, and ran plumb against a rail-fence ; in 
a jiffy that jackass looked like an egg-nog. There is no 
word coined to express my eggs-ass-peration. 

When I caught the scapegrace, it required a half hour 
to make him and the saddle look the least respectable. I 
stopped at the next farm house, where a windmill sup- 
plied me with the water to wash the outfit, and I signed 
a pledge never to have anything to do with shell games of 
any kind. They always get the better of you. 



115 



CHAPTER XV. 

Every one who has petted a favorite donkey will remember 
many traits of its mental capacities; for, as in the case of the 
domestic fool, there is far more knavery than folly about the 
creature. — Wood's Natural History. 

It was a sunny spring day when I arrived in Kenton. 
After supper with a young physician, on his invitation, I 
retired, and next day set out for Ada, a village sixteen 
miles away. Toward evening, being tired and almost 
without funds, I sat down to converse with a farmer who 
was husking corn. He soon became interested in my trip, 
and said if I would help him husk awhile he would feed 
me and my animals. I gladly consented ; Mac A'Rony 
and Don lent their assistance, the donkey soon losing his 
appetite. After a delicious supper with the farmer's fam- 
ily, I hastened on, reaching Ada long after dark. 

Ada is the seat of a Normal School, which is the seat of 
a large number of other seats. Everybody seemed to be 
much concerned about the great fistic bout to take place in 
Carson City that day; the 17th of March. It was "St. 
Patrick's Day in the morning," with the weather threaten- 
ing, when I started for Lima. My coat was decorated 
with cabbage and lettuce leaves and paper imitations of 
shamrock, and I looked like an animated vegetable gar- 
den. Finally it rained ; and the road became a mire. 

I had just finished a heated argument on the Carson 
fight, and began to question the story of how St. Patrick 
drove the snakes out of Ireland, when I suddenly found 

116 



GYPSY GIRL TELLS FORTUNE 

myself on the ground. And I saw the streak of daylight 
Mac threatened to kick into my brain. 

An old man tried to drive a colt past my strange-look- 
ing outfit. I called to him to hold his horse by the bit 
until I could lead my donkey into the field. But no, he 
could handle the colt, or any other horse, and I should 
mind my own business. On the rig came a few yards 
nearer, when in the twinkling of an eye the colt whirled 
and upset the buggy with its boastful driver. The man 
was not hurt ; but somewhat dazed. Several farmers soon 
arrived and were loud in their abuse, saying Mac and I 
had no right on the highway. It was an effort for the 
donkey to keep his mouth shut. I replied, civilly, that I 
was sorry the thing occurred, and explained how I had 
warned the stranger. 

Then I whipped up my unjustly abused partner, and 
left the old man pulling his beard thoughtfully in the 
midst of the sympathetic group. All day I strode far in 
advance of my donkey and led untrained, untamed, and 
frightened horses past. 

Next day being stormy, I devoted the morning to writ- 
ing my newspaper article and answering some urgent let- 
ters ; then, failing to arrange for a lecture, I left Lima for 
Delphos, and tramped fifteen miles in mud and rain with- 
out lunch. 

We spent Saturday night in Van Wert, and Sunday af- 
ternoon resumed the journey in sunshine, people crowd- 
ing their front windows and doorways to see us leave 
town. We had not proceeded far when I met an odd trio 
who had run half a mile across lots to speak to me. One 
boy had a twisted foot ; another, a hand minus five or six 
fingers; and the third acknowledged that as soon as he 
caught sight of us he lost his head. Considering their 

117 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

crippled condition, I thought they deserved credit for such 
activity. 

It was eight miles to Convoy. There was no bottom to 
the road. Seeking a footing along the fence, I ground in- 
numerable land crabs into the mud, while the peepers in 
the swampy clearings piped their dismal music. At dusk 
we waded into the village where a curious throng awaited 
the sensation of the day. And there we spent the night. 

The nearer I approached the Indiana border, the more 
impoverished appeared the farms and their struggling 
proprietors. Every other farm-house was the primitive 
log-cabin, and the bams and outbuildings generally tallied 
with the house. 

A thunderstorm awoke me at day-break; the prospect 
for my day's tramp was most dismal. After walking six 
miles, I stopped to talk with a party of gypsies, in camp. 
Presently a black-eyed gypsy girl issued from a heap 
of bedding under a tree, and inquired if Mac A'Rony was 
an ostrich. Her heavy jet-black hair fell in a mass over 
her shoulders, and her sparkling eyes did their level best 
to enchant me, as she asked to tell my fortune. 

''How much?" I asked. 

Her grizzled sire said fifty cents ; the daughter cor- 
rected him, saying one dollar. That was too steep for me. 
I gave Mac the rein and proceeded some distance when 
the girl called to me, "Twenty-five cents ! Come back !" 
This was an alluring proposition, and I returned. At 
once dismissing the bystanders, she reached over the fence 
for my hand, told me to place a quarter in it, then to close 
and open it. I no sooner obeyed than the coin disap- 
peared, and the gypsy began in a charming manner, as 
follows : 

"That line shows you will live to a good old age. You 
are to enjoy your best days in the future. Understand 

ii8 



GYPSY GIRL TELLS FORTUNE 

me ? If your pocket was as big as your heart you would 
make many others happy. Understand me ?" She surely 
must mean creditors, I thought. "Yes," I answered. 

''Shows it in your face," said she. "You have for a 
long time dishked your business" (that was no lie), "and 
want to change it. Understand me? You make friends 
easily, and wherever you go you are invited to come again. 
Understand me?" I nodded. "Shows it in your face." 
I began to think she was reading my countenance instead 
of my hand. 

"Are you married ?" she asked. "No, but want to be," 
I replied. 

"Shows it in your face," said she. "A widow lady is in 
love with you. She has written you, and you will get her 
letter soon. Her name is Sarah. Understand me ?" 

"I do not," said I ; "I know but one woman named 
Sarah. Heaven help me if she is after me !" 

"Shut your hand now, and make a wish," said the girl. 

I did as she bade, and wished long and hard. 

"Now open," said she. Her black eyes seemed to 
pierce my very soul. "You wish to make fame and for- 
tune. Understand me?" 

"True, I do," I said to her; that's just what every man 
wishes, I said to myself. Then she continued : 

You will make fame and fortune in the business you 
are now in. Shows it in your face." I wasn't satisfied 
with that prediction ; I preferred the fortune to be in my 
pocket. 

"A kiss is awaiting you from a black-haired girl within 
two weeks' time. She loves you. A lot of girls want you, 
but they can't have you. Understand me?" 

"I confess that I don't quite," I answered. "But I wish 
those poor girls did." And I looked real serious. 

"Shows it in your face," she repeated. That fortune 

119 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

teller puzzled me. The quarter's worth of seance at an 
end, I plodded on toward the Hoosier country with my 
mute comrades, wondering how much of the fortune 
would come true. 

Soon afterward we got out of the mud area and came 
to a hard, smooth, broken-stone road. I stopped my 
donkey and sat down to take off my rubber boots. Just 
when I got the first shoe on, jNIac began to move down 
the level turnpike. I called, "Whoa, Mac ! Huh ! ! You 
long-eared Mephisto !" The jackass paid no heed, but 
galloped on, shaking his head and kicking up his heels 
merrily with the dog in front of him, barking as if he en- 
joyed Mac's practical joke. By this time I was speeding 
after the runaway, a boot on one foot, a shoe on the other, 
and chased a half mile before I caught him. Then I led 
him back for my footgear. 

Two miles beyond we again struck mud, thick and deep. 
Observing a little mound covered with long dried grass, I 
sat down again to change my footgear. Mac turned and 
eyed me mischievously, and wobbled his ears, then nodded 
to Don. I was so absorbed with the idea that he intended 
to lead me another chase that I failed to hear an ominous 
sound emanating from underneath my seat. Not until 
something semed to burn me did I rise to the occasion, 
and light out, this time stocking foot, but making less 
speed through the black and sticky highway than on my 
former run. 

Something less than a million bees swarmed about my 
head. I ran! Oh, how I ran! And I would be running 
still, perhaps, had not a farmer seen me and knocked down 
the swarm with a section of a rail fence. I was quite out 
of breath. The hero had only spared my life for future 
tortures. 

120 




7 scrutinised his hat inquisitively. 



GYPSY GIRL TELLS FORTUNE 

After considerable search, I found boots and shoes, but 
failed to see either dog or donkey. Putting on my boots, 
I hung my shoes on the fence, and set out on the trail of 
the fugitives, which appeared to have gone into the brush. 
I waded into the thicket, calling Don all the time, and at 
last was rewarded. He leaped at me delightedly, and 
barked, and tugged at my trouser legs, and piloted me to 
the terrified donkey which I found tangled in a mass of 
wild raspberry bushes, his head tucked between his fore- 
legs, and his back doubled up like a cat at bay. There 
were no bees on Mac. 

That was a hot experience, for a raw March day. I 
plodded on through the mire to the house, whose proprie- 
tor had come to my rescue. The dooryard was filled with 
hives. 

"Regular bee ranch," I remarked, pleasantly, though I 
burned uncomfortably. 

"Yas. Right smart business," the man returned. 

"You're right; bees do a smart business." 

"Lived on 'em nigh ten years." 

"You must find them a hot diet!" I said. "I lived on 
a nest of them less than half a minute and nearly burned 
up. 

"I reckon so," he replied with a chuckle. "I saw yer 
scorchin'." 

It was 2 :30 P. M. when we crossed the state line. The 
first sight that greeted my eyes in Indiana was a flock of 
Ohio geese just ahead of us, being driven by a hoosier. 

"Fine drove of geese you've got there," I said to the 
man. 

"Yaw," he answered. "But Ohio geese is peculiar. 
Gooses won't run with th' ganders.." 

"No?" I queried. "What's the reason they won't?" 

121 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"Wall, jest th' way they's built. Won't run — jest fly, 
er waddle." 

"What most all geese do, don't they?" I asked, much 
amused. 

"Yaw," reiterated the hoosier, grinning; "jest fly, or 
waddle." 



i 



122 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Get money ; still get money, boy, no matter by what means. — - 
Ben Jo nson. 

Indiana swamps, woodland, corn fields and log cabins 
were not unlike those of Ohio. On arriving in New 
Haven two hours after dark, I was quite tired out, and I 
think my companions were, too. We had tramped all day 
without dinner over a road alternately hard and muddy. 
I would have stopped to rest at a small place called Zulu, 
but the name sounded so cannibalistic that I looked to my 
firearms and hurried past. 

Next day I registered in Fort Wayne. After calling 
on the genial Mayor, I set out to inspect the city and see 
what my chances were, for I found the outlook for my 
delivering a lecture discouraging, and, although for sev- 
eral days I had barely made expenses, did not attempt 
money-making there. 

Fort Wayne is notable for its great car-shops and the 
Indiana School for the Feeble Minded. In the morning 
I boarded a car and rode a mile and a half out of town to 
the latter. The large building of brick and terra cotta, 
viewed in its expansive setting of well-groomed lawn 
and gay parterres, presented a picture of architectural 
beauty. 

The superintendent welcomed me cordially, although it 
was not visitors' day, and graciously showed me through 
the interesting institution. Its neatness, the clock-work 
regularity with which the several departments are con- 
ducted, and the great variety and detail of the mode of 

123 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

instruction given the 550 idiotic inmates were a revelation 
to me. Many of the advanced scholars were making and 
mending their clothes and bedding ; something I couldn't 
do, I fear. The idiots are carefully attended day and 
night. Never before did I see a natural-born bald-headed 
person. Here was one, a funny-looking girl, and I was 
told she had several brothers, sisters, parents, uncles and 
aunts, all bald from birth — a distinguished family indeed. 
I wondered whether her disappointment was as great as 
that of Pye Pod, who once possessed a head of hair, then 
lost it. I have heard it said people who never had money 
know not its value, and presume its so with their heirs. 

For mortals deprived of reason the place is surprisingly 
quiet. The halls are tiled, the floors of the rooms are 
waxed, and all are so slippery that the inmates are un- 
able to romp, which is probably the reason for such still- 
ness. Whenever they gain sense enough to be boisterous 
like sane and healthy children, they instantly fall on their 
craniums on the polished floor and are rendered insensible. 

I was interested in a group of little girls who were be- 
ing taught a game. One wee child with a big head — ^big- 
ger than I had ever been accredited with — was sitting in 
an invalid's chair with her head resting in an iron prop, 
because it was too heavy for one body to support in those 
hard times, and seated around in ordinary chairs were 
epileptic, paralytic, cross-grained idiots, etc., so far ad- 
vanced toward health and sanity by careful training as 
to play a game. 

While the great object of this school is to provide the 
unfortunates with a comfortable home and prevent inter- 
marriage, a few are graduated every year and transferred 
to the large farm owned by the institution. I heard the 
Feeble Minded Brass Band play; its music I thought 
quite equal to that of many normal bands I had heard. 

124 



ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE 

The birthdays of great men (excepting that of Pythagoras 
Pod), are celebrated, and birthday parties given. 

The superintendent drove me back to town and urged 
me to fetch my donkey out to entertain the idiots, and 
invited me to dine with him. So not telHng Mac about 
the place, I rode him to the Home, where I found my host 
and his assistants ready to receive us. 

"Shylock there will assist you," said the superintendent, 
pointing to a hump-backed inmate. 

When we got Mac to the hall entrance the circus began. 
Two attendants helped Shylock boost the donkey while 
I guided his head, and we managed to pitch the beast 
headlong into the slippery hall, where he landed three 
times in succession — first, on his knees and heels, second, 
on his tail, and third, on his back. I think he imagined 
he was on ice, for he lay perfectly still, afraid to move. 

The hall floor was cleared, but a bunch of idiotic heads 
stuck out of every doorway, and peals of hyenish laugh- 
ter reverberated through the building. Finally we got 
Mac on all fours, and I rode him slowly down the hall 
amid the hysterical shouts and screams of the physically 
strong, if feeble-minded children, and talking, yelling and 
commanding attendants, all of which so frightened my 
sensitive mount that he squatted down on the floor, 
rolled over on his side, and brayed. Did you ever hear 
an ass bray in any confined space ? It is awful ! These un- 
manageable pupils and their overtaxed preceptors fairly 
went mad, while Mac yelled, "Hell is empty, and all the 
devils are here !" 

The hall was now a swarming, uncontrollable mass of 
unbridled lunacy in human mould ; romping, tumbling, 
fainting, and taxing the united strength and strategy of 
the surprised officials to bring order out of chaos. The 
jackass went into a veritable fit, kicked the plaster off the 

125 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

walls, shattered an incandescent light globe, nearly rolled 
on top of an idiot who took him for a pussy cat, and 
brayed himself hoarse. Suddenly he leaped to his feet 
and ran akiting down the tiled hall floor until it turned ; 
then he tried to turn, and flopping off his feet, came down 
on his vertebrae. As soon as we could get him out of doors, 
I handed him over to Shylock and went into dinner with 
the laughing superintendent. I never want another ex- 
perience like that. The disappointing feature about the 
show was that probably not one idiot would remember it 
over to the next day. 

The following morning my party set out over a black 
muddy road. Thrifty looking farm-houses, many of 
them of brick, were scattered along our route, and sheep 
and cattle basked in the sunshine on the south side of 
strawstacks, often attracting wistful glances from my 
long-eared partner. Arriving at Churubusco, I put up at 
a comfortable hotel near the railroad where the noisy pass- 
ing trains kept me awake most of the night, and resumed 
the journey next day, after lunch. 

Some four miles beyond the village we came to a new 
iron bridge, without its approaches filled in. No work- 
men were about. A single two-by-twelve plank was 
stretched from the bank to the bridge at both ends to en- 
able people to cross, but evidently quadrupeds were sup- 
posed to ford or swim the stream. I tarried some mo- 
ments thinking what best to do, when presently a country- 
man happened by, and helped me carry a plank from the 
roadside to widen the bridge approach for my donkey to 
walk. 

What an ass Mac was ! He attempted to walk the planks 
sideways, and consequently fell into the deep miry hole, 
almost into the stream. I feared he had broken his back, 
but he escaped injury.. The farmer helped me uncinch 

126 



ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE 

the saddle and get Mac up the steep bank on to the road ; 
then we transferred the plank at the other end of the 
bridge to that end and made a three-plank foot-bridge. 
Finally we got Mac on to the bridge proper, and by trans- 
ferring the three planks to the other end I managed to 
overcome the obstacle, and proceeded on the journey, af- 
ter the loss of two hours. My hat had anticipated the 
animal into the hole and was flattened by his weight; 
thereafter it supported a gable roof. 

Two hours after dark we came to a barn that looked 
roomy and airy, and as the next town beyond Wolf Lake 
was so far away, I concluded we might as well take pos- 
session of it for the night, The barn door wasn't locked, 
so I led my animals in, and struck a match. No horses 
were visible, but a box stall contained a cow and a calf. 
Prowling about with lighted matches, I discovered a buck 
sheep, hiding behind his wool in fear of my bi}<|^ dog. I 
found a measure of grain for Mac and assigned Don to a 
pile of hay near the door, then tucked myself in some 
straw and drew my mackintosh over my shoulders, pre- 
pared for a night's rest. 

I was almost asleep when the calf bawled ; again when 
on the brink of Lethe, the sheep bleated. Suddenly my 
restless donkey kicked a board off the side of the barn and 
set Don to barking. I yelled, "Shut up !" Again the dog 
barked. The next second he made a leap in the dark, fol- 
lowed by a loud commotion, and at once the atmosphere 
indicated plainly what kind of an animal the dog was 
after. I couldn't get out of the door without running the 
lines, which seemed perilous indeed. Mac kicked and 
brayed as he never had before, and my dog was running 
round the barn trying to get away from the atmosphere 
or something. And I was as busy as the rest endeavoring 
to bury myself in the straw. Presently the dog and the 

127 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

buck sheep went to settling some misunderstanding, fight- 
ing Hke demons. The cow and calf then began to bellow 
in a discordant duet, and fearing lest any moment the 
cow would break the bars of her stall and enter the gen- 
eral fray, I dug all the harder in the straw. All at once, 
amid the obscured exciting scene and above the tumult, 
I detected an agonizing groan, and suspected Don was 
squeezing the life out of the sheep or the calf or the 
nuisance; but when it was all over and I heard the vic- 
tim gasping in its death throes, it was plain that my dog 
had shaken all the strength out of our unwelcomed guest. 

It was impossible for me to go asleep in that great, airy 
bam. I crawled out of the straw, and got my donkey 
out of doors as quickly as possible. As for Don, I felt 
indifferent about his joining our company, if he proposed 
to be familiar. On over the deserted highway we groped 
our way ; the dog sneezing, coughing and rolling by the 
roadside, the half-suifocated jackass breathing hard 
and braying faintly for more air, and I soliloquizing 
vociferously about the existence of useless creatures. 

The wind blowing head on, I kept some distance ahead 
of Mac, and threw mud and stones at the dog, which now 
seemed particularly fond of his master, and continued my 
tirade against such obnoxious things as we had lately run 
against. 

"Every creature has some redeeming virtue," Mac 
A'Rony remarked after a while. "Above all things, don't 
belittle the skunk; he's the best financier in the world. 
He could go into the Stock Exchange and bull the market 
with one scent, and all the members together couldn't bear 
it." Mac was ever doling out to me unwelcome philos- 
ophy under trying circumstances. 

We reached Ligonier, a fine little town eleven miles 
away, the next day in time for one o'clock dinner. Since 

128 



ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE 

entering Indiana I had not made expenses ; and my little 
reserve fund was vanishing. I had been told that Ligon- 
ier was a moneyed town, and its people liberal ; so I tried 
to secure a hall for a lecture, but failing, I spoke my piece 
in the street. Fully two hundred persons assembled to 
hear me, and encored enthusiastically. I concluded with 
passing my hat and collecting 32 cents. I talked again 
three hours later on the same spot, and was rewarded with 
a contribution of three cents. I think that collection for 
a lecture is a record-breaker. 

Goshen was reached next day by 5 P. M. The Scrip- 
ture speaks of Goshen as the land "flowing with milk and 
honey," but as I have been told, I am somewhat rusty on 
Biblical history. At any rate, I looked forward to replen- 
ish my depleted exchequer here, if I had to resort to ex- 
treme measures. Before retiring, I made up my mind I 
was going to be awfully disappointed with Goshen. The 
people of the section of country I had threaded from the 
Ohio boundary were incredulous, superstitious, penurious 
and suspicious, and those characteristics seemed to reach 
their superlative in that particular town. 

Monday dawned still and sunny — an ideal day for 
hanging out clothes, but not shingles. I hung out mine, 
nevertheless ; it was essential to Mac's welfare and to 
mine, to say nothing of the dog's. 

A drummer showed deep interest in my pilgrimage, and 
I asked him how he made out with his business. I had 
failed signally. He said he was glad I spoke to him on 
the subject, and drew me aside. 

"See all the thrifty-looking wagon-teams hitched on 
the two sides of the Court House Square ?" said he ; "See 
those squads of grangers standing around waiting for 
something to turn up? Well, every stranger is looked 
upon with suspicion. If he attempts to drum up a new 

129 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

business among these fossils, he is immediately branded 
a 'fake.' After I had made two unsuccessful trips to this 
section, I vowed I would make the third one a success. 
A fake article sold by a first-class imitation drummer 
would just about catch these people. And ever since that 
day I have been unloading on them, and reaping a big 
harvest. Do you see the moral? 

I said I did, and thanked him. After lunch, during 
which I was accredited extremely thoughtful, I drew my 
friend aside and whispered,''! have it. I'll buy some axle- 
grease, and mix it with sweet oil, and sell it for eye 
salve !" The drummer eyed me as he might a wonderful 
character, felt of my head, and said I'd win out. At once 
I went to a drug-store for some pill boxes, blank labels 
and perfume, and to a hardware store for axle-grease 
and sweet oil ; then retired to my hotel room, and mixed 
my ''Eye EHxir." 

As soon as my magic healing wares were ready to put 
on the market, I hunted up a sore-eyed tramp I had seen 
on the street that day, and promising him a percentage of 
my receipts, got him to assist me to get even with the folks 
he, too, had a grudge against. When I was fairly started 
on my eloquent talk about the virtues of "Eye Exixir," 
the tramp walked up with the quarter I had given him, 
and asked for "another box," saying to the crowd, he'd 
been looking for me all over the country and was glad to 
find me, for his eyes being almost well from using the 
first box began to get worse when he had no more salve, 
which was the only thing that ever helped his sore eyes. 
He said, if he could afford it, he would lay in a lot of it 
for future use, not knowing where he could get any more. 
Then a boy stepped up and bought a box, and an old 
woman bought two boxes, and the sales proceeded so 
fast when once started that I soon sold out, and took in $7, 

130 



ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE 

selling twenty-seven boxes of "Eye Elixir" besides the 
box I had sold to the tramp. I paid him one dollar for 
his services, with which he was delighted. This left me a 
net profit, after deducting the cost of making the salve, of 
$4.90, paying my expenses in town and leaving me a 
small balance. Then I cleared out of Goshen as quickly 
as possible. Oh, Shakespeare, how truthfully you said, 
*'What fools these mortals be !" 

I resolved that when I should return East I would go 
by ship around the Horn, or by train across the Isthmus, 
or else choose a trans-continental route which would give 
that section, honied and milked by Pye Pod, a wide 
berth. 



131 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Yankee Doodle came to town. 

Riding on a pony, 
Stuck a feather in his cap, 

And called him "Mac A'Rony." 

—Old Ballad. 

A county poor-house on the road to Elkhart attracted 
my notice when I was about to pass it by. My outfit was 
recognized by a man raking the front lawn, and he 
urged me to visit the institution; so, thinking I might 
devote a quarter-hour to the cause of self-education, I 
tied Mac in the yard, and was shown through the dirtiest 
and most uninteresting building I ever inspected. 

Old, lazy-looking men, with empty heads in full hands, 
lounged about on benches, and several others in the hos- 
pital ward seemed to be trying harder to die than to live. 
One wrinkled but round-faced wench, with a soiled band- 
age round her ears and forehead, was smoking a well-sea- 
soned pipe in the kitchen while stirring mush. I was glad 
to see the house prison empty. Five minutes indoors suf- 
ficed me ; and, bidding my escort a hasty adieu, I piloted 
Mac on to Elkhart. 

Arriving in the city, I at once procured a license to sell 
pictures on the curb, a precaution I had been timely ad- 
vised to take, and one that was rarely necessary on that 
trip. Then, before going to eat and to rest my tired 
bones, I led the donkey to a prominent corner in the busi- 
ness center and began to sell. I had disposed of two 
photos only, when a policeman with unusual pomposity 
ordered me away, but I continued to make sales and, as 

132 , 



DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN 

(•,*•■■ ^ xp*. !■ ■ 

■■,.... (J . ^ ^ 

he was about to take me in custody, shook my license in 
his face, causing much merriment to the crowd. 

Soon the cheering attracted the Mayor to the scene, 
and he, to my surprise, not only bought a chromo, but 
paid me for the privilege of riding Mac A'Rony. The 
jack reluctantly consenting, his Honor got into the sad- 
dle and rode down the half-choked thoroughfare a block 
and back amid thunderous applause. 

The profits from my sales did not meet my expenses, in- 
cluding the cost of license, so I hurried on to Mishawaka, 
where, after supper I delivered a street lecture, passed my 
hat and collected 24 cents. I would yet be stranded in 
Indiana, at that rate. Mac advised me to leave town at 
once, and we made for South Bend at dark, reaching that 
city by ten o'clock. And there with only $6.50 in pocket, 
I put up at a small hotel and tossed in bed half the night, 
wondering how I should save myself. 

"The darkest hour is just before dawn," and it was 
about that time when I recollected having received, a few 
days before my pilgrimage began, a letter from a Mr. 
Adams, of Chicago, extending me an invitation to be 
his guest, should I pass through that city. It was one of 
many letters received at the time, which I had not an- 
swered. I now regretted my negligence, but neverthe- 
less, next morning, with due apologies I wired him to 
expect me on a certain train, and planned for a week's 
absence. 

The lenient hotel proprietor agreed to take care of my 
animals as security for my hotel and stable bill; then I 
purchased a return ticket for emergency, and boarded the 
train for the Windy City, trusting to a dollar and a half, 
to my wits, and to "luck" to carry me through. 

As I stepped off the train in Chicago, a stranger 
grasped my hand and gave me a most cordial greeting. 

133 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"Laying for me, eh? — first man I meet a confidence 
man," I muttered inwardly. But he was extremely cour- 
teous, and offered to carry my saddle-bags. 

"No, sir," I said, politely. "I've carried them twelve 
hundred miles, and can carry them three thousand more." 

"Pod is your name, all right ;" the stranger continued, 
half in inquiry, half in surprise, I thought, as we walked 
out of the railroad station. 

"You bet it is," I said, emphatically. "Just because 
you've plenty of wind out here you needn't think it can 
blow away my name." 

"Well," said he, cheerfully, "Our wind is said to be 
the best brewed in all this country. It may not be strong 
enough to blow away pods, but I'll wager it can blow the 
pease out of 'em so far you never can find them." The 
man's facetiousness interested me ; it bespoke his nerve. 

"Tell me, Mister," I said, after walking several blocks, 
"where are you taking me, anyhow ?" 

"Oh, just three blocks more, then we take a cable," said 
my escort, as he made another futile grab for my country- 
fied luggage. When on the car, this confidence man had 
the confidence to introduce me to a pal, as the New York 
gentleman and scholar. Professor Pye Pod, who was sur- 
veying a trans-continental turnpike from the observation 
platform of a jackass. 

"I want to know !" exclaimed bunco man number two ; 
and suddenly, a new light affecting to dawn on his brain, 
he added, as if to disarm my suspicions, "I see. I see. I 
have it now. You are the journalist I've read about, — 
said to be well fixed — first visit to Chicago?" 

"Not much," I returned. "Been here dozens of times. 
Can't say I'm well fixed, though, with only a dollar and a 
half to my name." 

At this stage of the dialogue, I saw a police station. 

134 



DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN 

"Come with me," I said, "I want to procure a license. 
Then we'll have a 'smile.' " 

And, to my utter surprise and gratification, both men 
stepped off the car and followed me like faithful dogs into 
the police station. 

"Where's the Chief of Police?" I inquired of a man in 
uniform, who stepped toward me. 

"Right here before you," was the answer. 

"Well, arrest these bunco-steerers," I said, dropping 
my odd-looking luggage and laying a hand on each man's 
shoulder. I never saw greater astonishment and embar- 
rassment than was expressed by these two confidence men 
at being so easily trapped by their "Uncle Rube." 

"This man met me at the train when my depot came 
in," I continued, excitedly, in lapsus iinguce. He knew 
my name, business, and previous condition of fortune, and 
put me on a car where he introduced this pal of his, and 
if I hadn't been forwarned against such fellows by my 
Uncle Hiram, and caught on to the game, I would have 
been robbed by this time and chucked into the sewer." 

This was enough for the Chief. He seized each man 
by the collar. Instantly the first man found his tongue 
and tried to explain matters, and finally did so, to the sat- 
isfaction of all concerned. But what a surprise party for 
Pye Pod ! 

"Well ! well ! ! well ! ! !" I exclaimed, my heart thump- 
ing like a pile-driver, as I realized my embarrassing pre- 
dicament. "Who would have thought it? Mr. Adams, 
of course ! My dear sir, how stupid of me ! I have 
wronged you and your friend unmercifully. When I 
telegraphed you (the Chief here loosened his hold on the 
men) I never thought you would attempt to meet me at 
the train, let alone have time to. Your address of 13 1609 
Wellington avenue, I supposed must be near to the State 

135 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

line; Chicago has grown so. Couldn't conceive how you 
could reach the depot before to-morrow." 

Of course, it was "up to me" to treat. So I left my 
saddle-bags, and going to a cigar store, purchased a 
dime's worth of cheroots, and did myself nobly by the 
chief and the confidence men, whose faces were bloated 
and red on my return. Then my forgiving host took me 
to his distant home, where, after dinner, we enjoyed a 
smoke — of his own cigars — and a hearty laugh over my 
exceptional initiation to Chicago life. 

While smoking and chatting, my host happened to 
mention a big mass meeting to be held that evening at 
Lincoln Turner Hall. The doors were to be opened at 
eight o'clock. It was now seven-thirty. At once I ex- 
plained my financial stress, and told him that the object 
of my advance trip by train was to try to make enough 
money to continue my donkey journey. Adams suggested 
that, that being the case, we should attend the meeting, 
by all means ; so we hurried off. 

Arriving at the hall, my host introduced me to an officer 
of the league, who escorted us both to seats on the plat- 
form with a number of vice-presidents and their wives 
and mothers-in-law. After several orators had spoken, 
among them being Carter Harrison, soon to be elected 
Mayor of Chicago, the chairman reminded the audience 
of Pythagoras Pod and his celebrated donkey, Mac 
A'Rony, of whom they had read, saying that the meeting 
was honored with the Professor's presence; then he in- 
troduced me, after having said I needed no introduction. 

It was five minutes before I could hear myself speak, 
and, not being there for that purpose, I didn't say much. 
But my speech seemed to tickle the audience, and when I 
had concluded, the chairman suggested that my histrionic 
plug hat be passed around the hall, on the inside, so it 

136 



DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN 

was ; and, do you believe, it was returned to me with more 
wealth than I had possessed before, at any one time on my 
pilgrimage. 

The two days following were busy ones. I contracted 
for the manufacture of a quantity of buttons, containing 
the picture of Pye Pod on his donkey, and arranged for 
the meeting with the manager of a large patent medicine 
concern on my return to the city with Mac A'Rony. 
Then, after a day's rest, I returned Sunday evening to 
South Bend, Ind., to find my donkey and dog well and 
delighted to see me, but myself suffering, for the first, 
with malaria. 

I had a severe chill on reaching the hotel, and all night 
long I rolled and tossed with a fever. This was doubtless 
the result of my evening travels through the swamps and 
lowlands of the Hoosier State. At midnight, I sent a 
bell-boy for quinine, and by feeding on the medicine lib- 
erally, for several hours, I broke up the fever by morning ; 
but still my bones ached. I had no appetite and was in no 
form to travel. At noon I forced down a little soup, paid 
my bills, and set out for New Carlisle, walking the whole 
distance, fourteen miles, by sunset. Mac was so slow 
that his shadow beat him to town. My muscles and 
joints still ached, and I passed another sleepless night. 
Next day I pushed on to La Porte, fourteen miles further, 
and went to bed feeling a wreck. But as the chills and 
fever failed to return, I enjoyed sleep. 

My Chicago trip was a boon to me. I gave no thought 
to money-making for the present. Wednesday morning, 
feeling in better spirits, I started for Valparaiso, and cov- 
ered the twenty-two miles on foot by dark, and relished a 
hearty supper. Thus far the week had been cold and 
damp and cloudy. The roads, where they were not 

137 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

muddy, were very sandy, and Mac and I made slow head- 
way. 

The following night was spent in Hobart, where I was 
entertained at an amusing, though distressing cock-fight, 
and all day Friday I tramped or waded in sand six inches 
deep to the next town, Hammond, where I passed a rest- 
less night, in spite of my now restored health. In the 
morning I learned that the state line runs not only 
through the town, but also, the very house and bedroom 
I occupied. My bed was directly on the line, and some- 
how, any position I got in brought that line across some 
part of my body. 

Dull monotony and bad weather distinguished the next 
day's journey; a rainstorm met us half way to Chicago, 
and wet us all the way. But on Palm Sunday, we pro- 
gressed under more genial skies. I observed many pa- 
cific, law-abiding people with prayer-books, bottles and 
shot-guns, either on their way to church, to a fishing- 
stream, or to the woods ; and we came upon a tandem bi- 
cycle party, the machine broken down, the young man and 
woman apparently broken up. She sat on a stone against 
a telegraph pole with chin in her hands, watching the gal- 
lant fellow, who was at her feet, on his knee caps with a 
monkey wrench in his hands, trying to repair damages. 

From South Chicago we passed into Stony Island Bou- 
levard and the Midway Plaisance of the World's Fair of 
'93. The remaining Art building arched its brows at my 
curious outfit, and an endless chain of bicycles and car- 
riages conveyed past us an inquisitive and gaping multi- 
tude, many of whom altered their plans to follow us into 
the city proper. It was six o'clock when we reached 
Thirty-fourth street and I found a suitable stable for my 
animals. Then affectionately patting Don's head and 
rubbing Mac's nose, I left them and sauntered up the ave- 

138 



DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN 

nue, heaving a sigh of infinite relief over my hard-earned 
triumph. 

As I trended the streets of that wide-awake metropolis 
toward its business center, I was stopped many times by 
truant messenger boys and idle street gamins, who seemed 
surprisingly solicitous about the physical condition of my 
hat. 

''Mister, this way to a hat store." ''If you want to buy a 
new hat, I'll take you to a hatter." "This way, Mister, I 
know a place to get a hat cheap." "Say, Mister, I kin get 
yer a hat fer nothin'." 

Why should I wish a new hat? I asked myself indig- 
nantly. True, mine had seen better days, but it was worth 
more to me now than a hundred new hats. "Yes, yes, 
you dear old weather-beaten tile," I apostrophized as I 
strode on with a deaf ear to my inquisitors, "you are of 
royal stuff, for you have triumphed over many wars and 
dissensions and still wear a crown ! The plebeian hats 
who calumniate you, although fresh from a band-box, are 
common compared with you ; they are jealous of your ex- 
ploits and envy you your faithful friend. 

Vividly do I recall our desperate encounters with the 
mad bull, the hailstorms and other warring elements ; and 
that winter's night when you forgot your personal safety 
and made a noble self-sacrifice by receiving the assailant's 
bullet intended for me; and, again, the day the awkward 
jackass tried to yank me off the plank foot-bridge under- 
neath him in his fall, when you threw your own lean 
frame down on to the bank in place of me and received the 
weight which would have mashed me to death, but which 
only squeezed the wind out of you. Why do all the idle 
clerks gaze at you so longingly from the shop-windows? 
Because they covet you as a drawing card to disdaining 
shoppers. I am proud of you. Rest in peace." 

139 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I spent the night with friend Adams, on his invitation. 
Monday morning I kept my appointment with the patent 
medicine man. He received me cordially, evidently aware 
of the boon I might be to his business should I enter his 
employ, and in order that he might better discuss my 
proposition and its possibilities, he invited me some miles 
into the country for a couple of days' outing at a mineral 
spring resort. 

A stylish coach and four met us at the train, and 
wheeled us over a pretty rolling country, in the glow of 
the setting sun, to the cozy hotel-sanitarium, which was 
brilliantly illuminated and whose doors were open to wel- 
come us. 

And in less than twenty minutes. Pod made of his 
Apollo form a companion piece to ''Diana Bathing." 

The water then sold at fifty cents a gallon and there 
were two hundred gallons in my tub. Think of it ! I had 
read about beautiful actresses and heiresses taking milk 
baths and champagne baths and Rochelle salts baths, but 
that $100 bath of mine in pure lithia water would have put 
all those pretty bathing women to the blush. But when, 
in my enthusiasm, I so told my generous host, he spoiled 
all my beautiful delusions at once by saying quite me- 
chanically, "Oh, two hundred gallons for a bath is noth- 
ing unusual ; it's only the overflow." 

Next morning he asked me if I would like a magno- 
mud bath. "Sir?" I interrogated, gravely. "If you had 
dragged and pushed and carried a stubborn, cantankerous 
donkey through four hundred miles of red and yellow 
Ohio mud, and two hundred miles of blue and black In- 
diana mud, not to mention some six hundred miles of 
New York and Pennsylvania mud of various hues and 
conditions, the overflows of December, January and Feb- 
ruary ; if you had bathed in mud, waded in mud, soaked 

140 



DARKEST HOUR BEFORE DAWN 

in mud and cursed in mud for nearly five months, and I 
were to put such a deHcate question to you, your sensi- 
bilities would be shocked, your nerves paralyzed, your 
reason ossified." 

My host apologized and withdrew the invitation; then 
with great wisdom and forethought, he introduced me to 
the physician, Dr. Tanner, the highest authority on fast- 
ing, and renowned for his having fasted forty days. I 
considered this the luckiest meeting of my whole journey. 
He took quite a fancy to me and gave me valuable instruc- 
tions and prescriptions for fasting any period from one to 
forty days ; but I was disappointed not to be enlightened 
on how to go several days without water. 

That morning my host made me a liberal proposition to 
advertise his medicines, he guaranteeing to pay me a 
regular weekly stipend during the remainder of my pil- 
grimage to the Golden Gate, and, free of all charges, to 
provide me with all the photographs of my asinine outfit 
that I could sell en route. I signed the contract. Then 
we returned to Chicago. 



141 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

The whole duty of man is to be a mother. — Jerome K. Jerome. 

One week of gamboling in sporty, wide-awake Chicago, 
and of high-life on the top floor of the Auditorium, put 
me in fine fettle to resume travel. My second morning at 
the popular hotel I indited this note to an Eastern friend ; 
"Breakfasted to-day on the roof, got a shine in the cellar, 
and met everybody half way.'' 

For nearly five months, through severe winter and early 
spring weather, I had hustled as I never had before to 
make ends meet; now I had swum the Hellespont to a 
prosperous shore, the remainder of my long, slow journey 
looked more enticing. Several valuable and useful ar- 
ticles were presented to me by wealthy admirers in the 
Windy City, who also dined me, took me to the theatre and 
entertained me in other ways. 

One evening I was pleasantly surprised to be escorted 
to a champagne dinner given by my friend Williams, of 
the Union News Company of New York, to several 
prominent business men of the West. When the sump- 
tuous repast was well under way he unpinned from the 
lapel of my coat a button containing a photo of Pod 
seated on Mac, and paid me a five dollar bill for it ; and, 
learning I had a stock of buttons in pocket, the other 
guests followed suit. Such wholesale generosity was as 
overwhelming as my gratitude. 

The man with whom I contracted to advertise gave me 

142 



CHAMPAGNE AVENUE, CHICAGO 

a donkey, which I named Cheese, to go with Mac A'Rony. 
And so deHghted was Mac with this new comrade to 
share his burdens that, on my approval, he agreed hence- 
forth to contribute to the papers every other letter on our 
travels to the coast, and so enable me to devote more time 
to bread-winning. 

Easter morning I found a blue hen's egg at my plate. 
I was pleased with the remembrance and had the clerk 
place it in my letter-box. When I called at noon for my 
mail, I was told the egg had visited most all of the letter 
boxes, each guest in turn having disclaimed it; so, when 
at six o'clock I called for the egg to take it to my room for 
safe keeping, and was handed instead a parcel that 
smelled of chicken, I was not surprised; however, upon 
opening it, I could not conceal my astonishment. 

"Mr. Pod," said the clerk, gravely, *'the egg was 
handled so much that it naturally hatched. Certainly you 
are not surprised?" 

"Not surprised that it hatched," I returned, to be rea- 
sonable, "but this is fried chicken, and the egg was 
boiled." 

My Easter dinner with friends on Champlain avenue 
made me realize somewhat the stupor a boa-constrictor 
experiences after having swallowed an ox. My friend 

Bob B urged me to make his home my transitory 

abode, arguing that perhaps while at the hotel I was 
cheated of needed rest by yielding too much to entertain- 
ment by well-meaning acquaintances. He gave me a 
key to the house, showed me my room, and told me to 
drop in any time, day or night, and make myself at home. 

Having promised to call on an elderly gentleman who 
had been very kind to me, I spent that evening with his 
family. Before leaving I had made great friends with his 
little granddaughter, and promised to call again and bring 

143 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

her some candy. "I want circus candy, the kind with 
rings around it," she explained, drawing imaginary cir- 
cles round her finger. 

When I reached my hotel the clerk said several gentle- 
men were waiting to see me. I was sleepy ; besides, I felt 
I had caught cold and should doctor it at once. Explain- 
ing to the clerk that I was indisposed and begged to be 
excused to my callers, I slipped out of the door and hur- 
ried to a drug store. ''A good drink of calisaya will fix 
you," said the drug clerk, who explained it was well 
charged with quinine, but failed to mention it was also 
well charged with alcohol. I drank two glasses of it, 
then boarded a car for Champlain avenue. 

Before reaching my destination I fell asleep. But the 
conductor was thoughtful enough to awaken me and as- 
sist me to alight. I was so dizzy from sleepiness, 1 
couldn't walk straight. I soon got my bearings, though, 
and reached Bob's house by experiencing sensations of 
treading a moving sidewalk, promenading a steamer deck 
in a high sea, and circumnavigating a crystal maze. 

I found the door-knob but not the key-hole. We had 
been having damp weather, and I reasoned that perhaps 
the key-hole had shrunk shut. I searched my pockets for 
matches, and found enough wooden toothpicks to kindle 
my wrath. While I was fuming, a policeman came to my 
relief. 

"Who be you, young feller?" he interrogated. 

"Pyth (hie) thagoras Pod," I answered, civilly; and 
offering him the key, added, "Won't you open the (hie) 
door for me ?" 

"You don't live here, then," said the cop. 

"I know (hie) it," I admitted. "Just visiting friends." 

"Are you sure you know where you are at ?" he queried, 
sternly. 

144 




"He accused me of attempting suicide." 




We made skrw headway to the Mississippi. 



CHAMPAGNE AVENUE, CHICAGO 

"No (hie), I'm not sure," I said feebly, "but I think I'm 
on Champlain avenue." 

"More like champagne," he returned, sourly. "What's 
the number of the house ?" 

"I forget it," I answered, "I know the house (hie), 
though, when I see it." 

"I think you came here for business," said the officer. 
"You better come with me." And he locked his arm in 
mine. 

"Let me ring (hie) up the folks," I pleaded. "They'll 
identify me." The cop stopped, hesitated, and, doubtlessly 
deeming prudence the better part of valor, "let." When 
I took my thumb off the electric button the household 
must have thought Chicago burning again. I heard Bob 
tumble half way down stairs ; and, when he opened the 
door and identified me and saw me stagger in, he took 
another tumble. The third was taken by the disappointed 
cop, who hurried off to his proper beat. 

Conscious of my inebriated condition, I was much em- 
barrassed that my friend should find me in such a state 
at that late hour. He asked me no questions, and I told 
him no lies. When he had assisted me to bed, he turned 
out the gas, which likely I should have blown out, and left 
me to prayerful meditation. My late propensity to sleep 
had vanished. My brain was a whirling wilderness. The 
more I thought about that temperance drink of calisaya, 
the less respect I had for the principles of prohibition. I 
scored temperance societies, darned Salvation Armies, 
and cursed the birth of Matthews, who invented the soda 
fountain. Before long I was in a sweat. The red bev- 
erage was evidently breaking up my cold, but that wasn't 
all. It broke me up ; it had broken the slumbers of my 
host ; I was sure it had broken up my good reputation 
for sobriety. 

145 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I was too nervous to sleep. Thinks I, "A hot bath will 
just fix me. I'll get up and take one." 

I rose and hunted for matches, but couldn't find any. 
Piece by piece, I scraped several ornaments off the mantel 
to the floor, one bronze Mozart statuette doing some ef- 
fective work on my big toe that I had intended a chirop- 
odist to do. Next I fell over a center-table, and upset a 
glass vase on the floor, which broke its neck; then I 
tumbled over a rocker and wondered that I didn't break 
mine. Still bent upon reaching the bath room, I bent my 
nose against an opened closet door. I was mad. At last, 
finding the exit of my chamber, I groped my way into the 
hall, then hesitated. I thought I remembered the location 
of the bath room ; I was under the impression my bedroom 
was on the third floor. In reaching for the balusters, I 
almost lost my balance. My head still whirling like a 
dancing Dervish. Slowly and dizzily I felt my way down 
stairs until I came to a door — the bath room door, I sup- 
posed. I opened it gently, groped my way in, and put my 
bare foot on a napkin-ring, which proceeded to roll away, 
landing me flat on the floor. Then the folding door 
swung to with a bang. I feared my friends would think 
burglars were in the house. 

But I found the tub all right. I turned the faucets, and 
was pleased to have both run cold water, for I burned as 
with a fever. But, when I started to climb into the tub, I 
found I had either grown shorter in stature, or the tub 
had been raised. Perhaps it was managed by automatic 
machinery. I knew nothing about machinery ; so with 
great effort I climbed up and into the tub, but found 
greater difficulty to get all of me in it. I reasoned that 
the dimensions of the contracted bath-tub must be all 
right, but the expansions of my head were wrong; I was 
intoxicated by a temperance drink, and had heard that it 

146 



CHAMPAGNE AVENUE, CHICAGO 

was the worst kind to get tipsy on. I made another heroic 
effort to jam my body into the tub, but some of me would 
always lap over the edges. I reasoned that, if I were 
sober, there would surely be room for three to swim com- 
fortably about that bathtub. Cold water ran from the 
faucets for some time and I was considerably cooled off, 
when, suddenly, one faucet began to run hot water. In- 
stead of turning off the water, in my excitement I tried 
to climb out of the tub, but was wedged so tightly in it 
a hasty escape was impracticable, and before I fell out on 
the floor my left leg was scalded. There were no pillows 
where I dropped, so the next moment the door swung 
open and the gleam of a lighted match shone in my face. 
I saw my host, with countenance as white as his night- 
shirt, suddenly assume a rosy hue, then I heard him gig- 
gle. I was glad he saw some humor in it, for I failed to. 
In one hand he held an old army musket, and I told him 
not to shoot. Sitting on the floor, I now saw plainly that 
it was the butler's pantry and not the bath room, and that 
I had taken a bath in the sink. 

Bob, on gaining my room, put some salve on my scald, 
and wound my limb with the first handkerchief he came 
across, and I was soon fast asleep. 

Next morning I remembered my promise to buy some 
candy for my little friend and visited a confectioner. It 
was a big store, and three salesladies tried to wait upon 
me. 

"I wish the spiral-striped peppermint, kind of circus 
candy," I explained. "It's for a little tot I am fond of." 

"I understand," said the girl, "but we haven't it, — but 
wait a minute." 

Before I realized what she meant, she had dashed out 
the door, presumably to the store two doors away. I was 
sorry she took such trouble to please a poor patron. Soon 

147 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

she reappeared with a crystal jar of the long stick candy I 
desired, and dumping a pound of it on the scales, inquired, 
"How much do you wish ?" 

"Oh, one stick will do," I said. "She's a delicate child ; 
I don't want to make her sick." 

The girl almost dropped the jar. Then recovering her 
mental equilibrium, she asked, while refilling the jar from 
the scales : 

"Will you take it with you, or have it sent?" 

I blinked. "Take it with me, I guess," was my reply. 
As she wrapped the stick of candy, I reached in my 
pocket for the penny. Then I felt weak ; I hadn't a cent. 

"I-I-I-I declare!" I exclaimed. "I left all my money 
with the hotel clerk ; I'll be back directly." 

And out I rushed into the street where there was more 
air. By the time I got to the hotel and back I was willing 
to buy five pounds of candy. I no sooner entered the store 
than the girl, with a smothered smile, said, "We sent the 
candy to the hotel." Now I was embarrassed. "What 
hotel?" I inquired. 

"Why, the Auditorium!" she giggled. "You're Mr. 
Pye Pod, aren't you ? The proprietor said so, and appre- 
ciating your immense purchase, desired to spare you all 
the inconvenience possible." 

I heard laughter in the office as T closed the door be- 
hind me. I dreaded to face the hotel clerk. As I strolled 
up street, I thought what a poor mother I would make 
even to one little child, and tried to fancy the awful strain 
on Washington to be such a good father to his whole 
country. 

There was one thing that worried me generally when 
my meals were over ; my hat. I feared I should lose it. 
The hat boy, clever as he was, by mistake might give it 
to another. Always when he handed it to me I stopped 

148 



CHAMPAGNE AVENUE, CHICAGO 

to examine it carefully, to make sure it wasn't one of the 
stylish tiles which had presumed to associate with it on 
the rack. It was customary for me to question the cus- 
todian of hats in this manner: *'Is this my hat?" ''Are 
you sure it is?" 

When, Tuesday evening, my odd-looking stove-pipe 
was handed me, I examined it incredulously, eyed the col- 
ored man, then stepping in front of a natty-groomed gen- 
tleman of fifty, who had just received his latest Dunlap 
from the custodian, I scrutinized his hat inquisitively, then 
my own, and eyed him inquiringly, as much as to say, 
Are you sure our hats have not become exchanged?" The 
dignified guest did not take kindly to my manner. He 
frowned, even looked savage. The darkey seemed to 
think it funny, and laughed in his hand, with back 
turned. I accompanied the old gentleman down in the 
elevator, to the office, where we picked our teeth. 

Then I addressed the clerk in injured tones : "I have a 
complaint to make." 

''Let's have it," said the genial Harry. 

"That black, blue-brown hat custodian at the dining 
room is forever getting my tile mixed with those of other 
guests. I hate to make a fuss, but " 

"You are quite right, Mr. Pod," said the clerk, seri- 
ously, "A first-class hotel should not tolerate such ineffi- 
ciency in a trusted employee. I'll discharge the fellow 
at once." 

I stepped away, contented, and lighted my cigar. 

Then the stately gentleman addressed the clerk : "Who 

in is that fellow ? He's off his trolley ! He thought 

this hat of mine was his, and that rusty antediluvian, 
dilapidated specimen he wears was mine. What's his 



name r 



?" 



Why, Professor Pythagoras Pod, of course. Didn't 

149 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

you recognize him? Everybody knows him. He knows 
his hat, too, and don't you forget it. Offer him fifty 
dollars for his old tile, and see how quickly he'll refuse it." 
The outraged dignitary shrank into his clothes, and, with 
a wry glance in my direction, walked away. The cus- 
todian of hats kept his job, but I never saw the stylish 
gentleman again. 



150 



PART TWO. 

By PYE POD AND MAC A'RONY. 

*' Do you believe the whale swallowed Jonah ? *' 

*'No/' 

*' And don't you believe Balaam's ass spoke to him ?" 

*'Yes; I believe that." 

*'Why?" 

*' Because so many asses speak to me every day.'* 



CHAPTER XIX. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



Days are but the pulse-beats of immortal time. — Sparks from 
Iron Shoes — Mac A'Rony. 

It was the twenty-tooth of April. The inclement 
weather, which had rained supreme for forty hours, sud- 
dently abdicated in favor of the presumptive sun and 
genial air apparent which ruled gloriously for some six 
hundred and nine minutes. Save that it lacked the odor 
of new-mown hay, it was a day fashioned after a donkey's 
own heart. However, a yard of fresh grass painted green 
would have satisfied my taste better than did the golden 
sun rays and the transparent air. 

At ten o'clock Pye Pod, D. D. (donkey driver), saun- 
tered oiif to do an errand, and then hastened to the stables 
to saddle and pack his two noble and fractious partners. 
Cheese and myself. I believe my erudite collaborator has 
already introduced to you my long-eared comrade. 

Such a load as we were to carry ! Of course, I got the 
worst of the bargain in which I had no voice. Said my 
master, as he rubbed my nose, "Mac, old boy, since you 
have become hardened to the trip by reason of your thir- 
teen hundred mile creep (I nabbed at him vexedly), I'll 
just let you shoulder the two boxes." And, with nerve 
incarnate, the unbalanced Professor balanced on my back 
what seemed to me two one-ton cases of pig-iron. I be- 
lieved my time had come. Even the unsophisticated 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Cheese, whispered to me nervously, "Our coffins, Mac, 
sure as Balaam !" and resumed the mastication of timothy 
hay, as if it were his last meal. 

The pack-saddles were tightly cinched to us. Every 
time Pod pulled on the ropes under my belly I grunted as 
if in pain, although it only tickled me, and gnawed a half 
inch off the oaken manger in seeming agony ; so, while he 
imagined he was squeezing all the breath out of me, I 
had still enough left to inflate a balloon. 

That's how I fooled Pod. All this time he was talking 
to himself. He vowed that he would get even with a cer- 
tain officious policeman, who had daily gloried in the ex- 
ercise of his authority, by ordering him to lead his "con- 
founded jackass" away from the front portal of the ho- 
tel, where crowds of curious people always gathered 
around us and blocked the way. His soliloquy grew 
louder and more fiery every moment. Even Cheese lifted 
his snoot out of the haymow and, tilting his left ear, whis- 
pered, "Say, Mac, our master must have some unholy mo- 
tive in mind. Hold on to your wind. Don't let him lace 
those lockers on you, as a squaw would bind a pappoose 
to her back, for you may want to kick 'em off. Pod's 
daft." 

Well, that suspicious jack's most grotesque foreboding 
was soon realized. Everything went well until we were 
nearly opposite the great double portal of the hotel, when, 
suddenly, I felt the saddle slipping round my girth. 
Another second and I was flat on my back, jerked high 
off my feet on top of the boxes. For a moment I could 
not realize the undignified posture I was in. Being roped 
securely to the boxes, all I could do was to kick at the 
flying sparrows, and bray as only a frightened donkey can. 

Crowds quickly assembled. Excitement ran high. 
Cheese, instead of raising a hoof in my defense, dropped 

154 



DONK CAUSES A SENSATION 

his ears and looked complacently on my animated heap 
like a country gawk. The hotel guests rushed out bare- 
headed, some of them fresh from the cafe with tripe and 
ice cream in hand, and wild-eyed pedestrians flocked to 
the scene of my troubles. Don barked excitedly and kept 
the throng back. The coolest one of the outfit was Pod. 
He stood quietly by, grinning and bowing to the open-air 
audience, as if he were the bandmaster and I the band. 

I now recollected Cheese's advice, and chided myself 
for having expanded my lungs at the packing. The 
thought was vexing to one in my position. Immediate 
relief looked hopeless. Scared half to death, I brayed 
myself hoarse before a would-be liberator wedged through 
the crowd and order Pod to clear the thoroughfare. He 
was that pompous policeman. He eyed Pod severely, and 
glancing at my up-turned face, inquired : 

'What's in them there boxes. Mister ?" 

Tills," said Pod, "just pills," and with his usual 
suavity added, "A very dainty but effective cathartic, the 
best remedy in the world for a morbid patrolman. I 
know you feel out of sorts, Mr. Cop, but the contents of 
one of these boxes taken internally will make you imag- 
ine you are not only the chief of the Chicago police but 
the Mayor of the city and the President of the United 
States combined." 

The Professor then handed the man a small box, and 
proceeded to free me. And, do you know, I choked 
Michigan Boulevard for an hour before I was got "right 
side up with care." 

We next moved on to the Columbus Statue, which then 
stood in a barren spot between the road and the lake 
shore, where a photographer waited to take some rare 
views of our outfit. The bombastic policeman ordered us 
off the grass, although there was nothing but gravel in 

155 



a- 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

sight. Cheese was raving mad and so annoyed by the 
cop's impertinence that he boldly made a bluff at eating 
the sculptured stone wreath off the statue, just to worry 
him. 

"Mac A'Rony, please keep your ears still for one mo- 
ment, will you?" said the photographer, as he took hold 
of my flaps and pushed them forward, adding, ''Now 
keep them there." 

As he let go they flew back into a natural position like 
blades of whalebone. Next he twisted my nose almost 
out of shape, and addressed me as if I were a lady. 
*'Now, smile gently — there !" Such a grin as I gave ! 
The instant he removed the black cloth from the camera, 
a familiar lump came up in my throat, and I brayed. My 
efforts to restrain myself joggled my ears out of gear and 
completely shook the smile off my face. But I was 
"took," body and bra'in's, with the whole outfit. 

How I shudder, when I gaze upon those photographs ; 
my drooping eyes, and my lazy body — all taken together 
made a picture so perfectly asinine that one can almost 
detect the bray leaving my mouth. I have always been 
ashamed of that picture of real life. Like all donkeys, I 
was disappointed because my photo did not flatter me. 
Besides, my master's eagerness to keep his contract to 
advertise a patent medicine led him to drape Don in a 
gray blanket, on which, "Throw physic to the dogs," was 
brilliantly embroidered — words which helped make 
Shakespeare immortal, but caused Don to blush. 

It was a long jaunt to Illinois street. Several times my 
burden threatened to come off. And once I almost made 
a free distribution of pills by falling in front of an electric 
car, which was brought to a stand only six inches from 
me. 

I caused a sensation, to say the least. And when 

156 



DONK CAUSES A SENSATION 

Cheese brayed in terror, a multitude flocked to the scene. 
The passengers were thrown out of their seats, some of 
them pitched off the front platform on the top of me, and 
screamed with fright. 

Pod, of course, flew into a rage. He accused me of at- 
tempting suicide; but Cheese loyally defended me and 
said, "Such a load of medicine is enough to prostrate a 
herd of elephants." 

Soon afterward, on turning a corner, the wind blew 
Pod's hat off, and it went flying under the wheels of a 
cable car which completely ironed the curl out of the hat 
rim on one side, and gathered a crowd on the other. 

"Managing one jackass is a difficult job, but controlling 
two is impossible," I heard Pod mutter, as he slapped his 
plug on his bald pate. 

Although it was only five miles to Garfield Park as 
the crow flies, it was ten by the course we took. At that 
place we were not overfed, and soon after leaving we en- 
countered an electric hail storm. Volley after volley of 
round shot ripped open Pod's ill-fated tile, and his spleen 
broke loose again. "I'm glad this day's most ended !" he 
thundered. His remark seemed to solicit sympathy, so I 
answered gravely, "My worthy master, remember that 
days are but the pulse-beats of immortal time. You 
should cherish each as you do every heart throb." My 
philosophic words silenced him for a moment. Then, as 
if I might warp the wearisome hour by a mute tongue, I 
lay back my tail and ears till they were parallel with the 
road, and landed my cargo in Oak Park before six. 

There was no hotel in sight, but as it was not yet dark, 
Pod was enabled to find a barn, adjoining a saloon, and 
there he stalled us, fed and watered us, and said good 
night. 



157 



CHAPTER XX. 

BY PYE POD. 

Full in the midst the polish'd table shines, 
And the bright goblets, rich with generous wines ; 
Now each partakes the feast, the wine prepares, 
Portions the food, and each the portion shares ; 
Nor till the rage of thirst and hunger ceased 
To the high host approached the sagacious guest. 

— Homer's Odyssey. 

I left my embryo caravan in Oak Park for the night, 
and returned to the Auditorium Hotel. The clerk greeted 
me with, "Well ! well !" grasped my outstretched hand, 
and with a smile said, 'T thought your picturesqueness 
had left us for good." Then, pulling a pen out of the 
vegetable pen-stand which squinted "How to do?" with 
one remaining eye, he handed it to me. 

"I'm a hard customer to get rid of," I remarked ; "could 
not get out of the city entirely this day, though I've trav- 
eled miles — jacks at Oak Park — saloon barn, best I could 
find — no hotel — got to eat and sleep, you know." And 
having said this, I walked majestically to the "lift." 

"Seventh floor?" queried the elevator boy. 

"No — dining room," I corrected, patting my stomach 
fondly. 

"Pretty late for feed, guess," observed the lad discour- 
agingly, as we began to rise. 

"There's a banquet on now," continued the lad. 

"Great Balaam! I am late!" I exclaimed. "I've been 

158 



A DONKEY FOR ALDERMAN. 

a week saving my appetite for this dinner. Let 'er slide 
kid — there!" and I hurried to the dining-room. 

I knocked persistently against the locked doors, while 
savory odors drifted through the keyhole, and was soon 
admitted by the assistant head-waiter. I smile now as I 
recall that watermelon grin, when the darkey yawned 
like a coalbin in expression of his greeting. 

'Tm somewhat embarrassed, Jim, to appear so tardy," 
I began, ''I had about decided to deny myself the honor 
and pleasure of the event. You see, my friends are all 
togged out in their pigeon-tails, while — just look at me." 

*'Why, Mistah 'Tagras, shuah dey will be glad to — " 

"Yes, yes, I know they would be more pleased to see 
me in my odd regulation clothes; but no, not this time, 
Jim ; close your scuttle — mum's the word. Just let me 
eat in this snug corner where I can hear the strains of 
the orchestra, out of reach of their stale jokes. Fetch 
on the viands." As I concluded I pressed a coin into 
the mahogany hand, and took from my coat a button 
containing Mac's and Pod's photo, and gave it to the 
delighted darkey. 

There was novelty in this strange situation. It was 
the only feast I remembered ever having attended unin- 
vited. 

Across the spacious hall, obscured by Japanese 
screens, sat the garrulous banqueters, blissfully ignorant 
of my presence, while I, a famished and jaded nomad, 
sat comfortably drinking in the liquid music of the sere- 
nade and inflating my gastronomical pipes with terra- 
pin, squab, robin's eggs, salads and other dainties galore. 

Presently I was served with something more melliflu- 
ous than music, as Jim appeared with a bottle of that 
familiar sparkling liquid, which is proverbially wrapped 
in cobwebs and frost, in a pail of ice, and said: "Believe 

159 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

yo' sayed Mumm, Sah — be dis yo' taste, Mistah 'Tag- 
ras?" My eyes eloquently expressed my sentiments. 
Oh, what a nerve tissue a donkey journey does create! 
As I quaffed the soul-stirring nectar, I thought of Mac 
A'Rony — how he would have relished a quart of that 
sterling brand! — and then poured a bumper for him and 
drank it to his very good health. 

When I had finished, I called the waiter and said, with 
visible effort: "Jim, I wish — hie — you would tell th' 
bandmaster (here Jim poked a napkin into his mouth), 
that a tardy guest — hie — heartily requests the pat — patri- 
otic — hie tune Macaroni's come to town. Go, Jim, that's 
a good girl." And Jim went. 

That waiter was the cleverest darkey I ever came 
across. We all well know that one trait of a thorough- 
bred darkey is the faculty for invention. Imagine my 
surprise when the fellow returned with a gentleman in 
full dress and introduced me. I, expecting to catch 
something different, failed to catch his name. 

My new acquaintance seemed to feel highly honored 
with the presentation. He appeared a bit staggered, 
though, and with difficulty found my wandering hand. 
Taking my arm, he escorted and introduced me to the 
convivial assembly as the distinguished guest of the even- 
ing — "though somewhat belated, nevertheless his genial 
presence duly appreciated." 

When he mentioned the name of Professor Pythagoras 
Pod such applause issued from the unsteady occupants of 
the hundred chairs that I, thinking it my courteous duty 
to join in the encore, clapped my hands vigorously. This 
seemed to provoke great merriment. The laughter and 
clapping grew louder and louder, until hands and throats 
were inadequate to express the jubilant- spirits of the 
banqueters, and they began to stamp their feet. Finally 

i6o 



A DONKEY FOR ALDERMAN. 

all arose, threw in the air imaginary hats, broke glasses 
of wine, and, in fact, I don't know what would have hap- 
pened if the manager had not entered the scene. 

Finally, some one called, "Speech! Speech! A speech 
from Mr. Pod!" I tried to respond. I didn't believe the 
guests knew who I was, other than a pod of some sort. 
The hotel manager did, but he had gone. I therefore 
decided not to reveal my identity ; I would act the invited 
guest I was taken to be. 

I did not speak long. What I said was ostensibly so 
appropriate, so pointed, so witty, so apropos, that the 
frequent cries of "Hear! Hear!" told me I had made a 
hit, and it was time to stop. I have no recollection of 
what I said on that momentous occasion, but I apolo- 
gized for the abruptness of my departure on the plea 
that I had six more banquets to attend that evening, 
whereas I had but one stomach. 

Wild cheers and handclapping greeted my speech. 
When quiet was restored I offered the following toast, 
asking all to rise with filled goblets: 

Hie — here's to the man, boys, here's to the man 
Who — hie — has the sagaeity, gall, and who ean 
Partake of the bless — hies — of earth, though unbidden, 
Without revealing the jack — hie — he has ridden; 
Here's to — hie — his poeket and here's to — hie — his purse — 
May Balaam shed tears when — hie — he rides in a hearse. 

With a concerted "Bravo!" all drank my health. Then, 
hat in hand, I followed a very tortuous route out and to 
the elevator, and soon afterward found the keyhole of 
my chamber door, and retired. 

I did not feel well in the morning, but nevertheless 
journeyed to Oak Park at an early hour. 

What a surprise awaited me at the barn! The air was 

i6i 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

dense with the odor of beer. I had hardly anticipated 
trouble brewing; nothing was so foreign to my thoughts 
as the possibility of finding two asinine inebriates and a 
"jagged" canine instead of the sober company I left the 
evening before. 

But there they lay, both donkeys paralyzed, panting 
and blear-eyed. An overturned beer keg swam in the 
deluge of froth that flooded the floor. Mac must have 
pulled the bung out of the keg. The fellow looked guilty 
enough, but, when I recalled my own recent dissipation, 
I didn't have the heart to upbraid him. 

I was perplexed. What could I do? To resume my 
pilgrimage that morning was out of the question. I 
felt in my bones that as soon as the saloonkeeper learned 
of the calamity, I, Pythagoras Pod, would have to pay 
damages. Such I could not well afford. Why not go 
to the man and enter a complaint against him for har- 
boring knock-out drops, and consequently causing my 
valuable animals ruination of mind, physique and moral 
character? 

A capital idea! No sooner thought than done. The 
man was speechless. 

"Why!" I exclaimed, pounding my fist hard down on 
the oaken bar, "think of it! a day's delay may lose me my 
five thousand dollar wager. THINK OF IT, MAN! 
FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!" I would have said 
more, but I noticed the Hibernian was knocked com- 
pletely out of the metaphorical ring by my unequivocal 
utterances. His blanched coimtenance showed that his 
conscience smote him. He paced the barroom floor like 
a leopard trying to get away from his spots. Presently 
he stopped, and, thrusting his fingers through his goatee, 
looked out in time to witness Mac A'Rony turn a head- 
spring from the barn door. 

162 



A DONKEY FOR ALDERMAN. 

"Begorry!" he exclaimed, "if Oi hod that mule, Oi'd 
ruun 'im for alderman of the Tinth Ward. Shure, and 
it's phure air and wather the bye's votin fer. It's this 
Oi'm sayin', Misther Pod, Oi'll give ye twinty-foive 
bones fer th' brute in his prisent condishun; Oi will that, 
ond call it shquare." 

Mac certainly was acting very compromisingly. But 
I explained to the Irishman no reasonable sum could 
purchase that particular donkey, and, furthermore, that 
twenty-five dollars would barely satisfy my claims. 

The exclamation of ''Holy Mither!" checked me for 
the moment, and as the man looked barnward he added, 
elequently shaking his fists, ''Oi'm dommed, if th' 
shcapegrace ain't mixin' dhrinks!" Here Mr. Rooney 
and I rushed out in the nick of time to prevent my crazy 
jack from tapping a whiskey barrel standing in the shed 
adjoining the barn. 

"Misther Pod, a curse on me soul if Oi would ruun th' 
bladherscat fer doorkeeper oof th' pinnytinsury! Here's 
tin dollars, tear th' likes oof it in two and rhuun ond buy 
a bhromo seltzer, and sober th' toper oop at wance." I 
took the profifered note, and had gone but a hundred feet 
when the Irishman called to me, "Hold on ; before yez 
lave fer th' sphace of a mooment moind thet ye puts a 
muzzle on th' asrophoid rephrobate with th' bobtail ears, 
ond shpring a toime lock on th' crethur." 

The animals having been dosed, I was about to ques- 
tion myself "What next?" when my host said cordially, 
"Shure, ond yez will feed with us. Yez may keep th' 
change from th' shinphlaster ond good luck in sthore fer 
yez. Now, coom on to grub, ond lave th' brutes alone. 
They'll be afther havin' their sea legs soon." And Pat 
succeeded in conciliating me, and escorted me to the 
house. 

163 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

By one o'clock my disgraceful donkeys answered to 
roll-call, and with touching humility submitted to be 
saddled. 

With such disappointing interpositions of Fate the 
Golden Gate seemed to be a decade removed. For a 
while, the donks were wavering and their pedals unreli- 
able; but after the first hour they meandered along quite 
acceptably. As Mac was slow to recuperate, I rode 
Cheese. He was surprisingly sure of foot, whereas Mac, 
swell-headed, drowsy-eyed and swaying, couldn't have 
walked a straight line a yard wide, unless it was a yard of 
grass. He walked with a suspicious tread, like one ven- 
turing on ice which threatened his death bath any mo- 
ment. When the afternoon was well advanced Cheese 
showed symptoms of lameness in his nigh fore-leg, as I 
had feared, in consequence of his late circus. We passed 
Maywood and Elmhurst as we followed the main-traveled 
road. I was compelled to dismount and lead my cripple 
four miles to Lombard. Such was my luck in the State 
of Illinois. 

It was after dark, the second day out of Chicago, and 
still we had traveled but twenty miles. To think — that 
munificent gift. Cheese, was already an invalid on my 
hands! I summoned a veterinary surgeon, and Hstened 
to his diagnosis with solicitous attention. "Only a strain 
of the shoulder muscles," said he; "must have run-hop- 
skip-and-jumped to get such a strain — does he ever play 
golf? Will require a full week's rest." The doctor ren- 
dered his professional opinion with the air of a metro- 
politan specialist prescribing a trip to Europe for some 
delicate society belle. 

Next morning I rode in company with a good fellow 
two miles into the country, where I purchased a very 
long-eared, shapeless donkey, of a good character, and 

164 



A DONKEY FOR ALDERMAN. 

quickly rode him bare-back to town. Then I sold my 
cripple at auction in the public square. 

The cumbersome pack-boxes, which the sturdy Mac 
A'Rony had borne without a murmur, I also sold to pay 
the doctor's bill. 

The following day saw me in the town of Wheaton, 
whose reputed beauty I failed to appreciate in a pouring 
rain. I remained there over Saturday night and Sunday. 

The clipping of Cheese II on Monday morning proved 
to be an exhibition well worth witnessing — at a safe dis- 
tance. That "model" character turned out to have the 
temper of a vixen. First, a rope was twisted round his 
nose, then his four legs were tied securely together, and 
finally six strong men held him down on the floor to per- 
mit the finishing touches to his vibrating limbs, while 
carefully avoiding the finishing touches to their lives. 

Instantly the half dozen assistants were sent sprawling 
across the floor in all directions, while the stable dog 
chased an imaginary bird into space and landed in a 
poultry yard. The frightened donkey was mad, or had 
a fit. On the other hand, Mac, in the noisy excitement, 
pumped his bronchial organs to their utmost capacity, 
and Don joined in the chorus, till any passer-by might 
easily have mistaken the barn for a slaughter house. 
Finally, the unruly subject was got under control, and in 
time released on bail (of hay). I verily believe that the 
electricity generated by that clipped donkey, if stored, 
could have propelled a trolley for twenty-four hours. 

During the ensuing week, the villages of Geneva, El- 
beron. Maple Park and Courtland in turn greeted me 
with the usual curiosity and concern, and I was spared 
to enter De Kalb on Wednesday evening, after a most 
distressing adventure. When we had proceeded about 
two miles beyond Courtland, I unchained my dog for a 

165 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

short sportive recess. I rode Mac, and about three feet 
to our right ambled Cheese, a chain connecting his bit 
with my saddlehorn. My Httle troop was peacefully 
traversing the smooth country road when suddenly Don 
came bounding down the highway, chasing a little red 
calf, the dog barking gleefully, the calf bellowing with 
fright. Drawing my revolver, I fired to distract Don's 
attention ; but without avail. A few moments later, as I 
was aiming at a flock of black birds, I heard the ominous 
clatter of hoofs rapidly approaching us from the rear, 
accompained by a deep, hoarse mooing, which clearly 
emanated from a calf of mature years. Imagine my feel- 
ings when, turning in my seat, I beheld an enraged cow 
racing with Don in a bee line for me, the dog in the lead 
going a mile a minute, the bovine a mile and a quarter. 
It was the first I had known Don to flee from a foe. 
His eye now protruded, his tongue hung out a-foam, 
and his tail lay back straight like an arrow. 

As I remember, the dog passed under the chain con- 
necting my donkeys, and instantly with the force of a 
locomotive something alive plunged in our midst, strik- 
ing the chain. How many double somersaults I turned 
I know not. How many minutes we remained in the 
dusty road overturned in a heap I can only estimate 
from the distance the lucky dog must have traveled to 
get out of sight so soon. 

My first mental reflection was that the cow must be 
the calf's mother; my second thought was to save my 
life. I managed somehow to crawl out from under the 
animated heap, and then surveyed the situation. The 
cow's horns were fast in the chain and one of her feet 
in the saddle gear; and she tossed her head savagely, 
every time lifting one donkey or the other bodily off the 
ground and dropping him in a heap in the dust. She 

i66 



A DONKEY FOR ALDERMAN. 

kicked and bellowed, until, finally breaking loose minus 
a horn, she made for me head down, innocent as I was. 

I didn't stop to argue, but Ht out for the barbed wire 
fence with that outraged mother at my heels. I have 
heard you can tell how fast a man thinks by the way he 
eats. You could have told how fast I thought by the way 
I ran. Over the fence I leaped, leaving my long coat- 
tail hanging from the top strand of wire. The cow, 
blinded with rage, made a lunge at the piece of cloth only 
to lacerate her head on the barbs; then she jumped the 
fence and took after me, tail in air, and foam dripping 
from her mouth. 

A small tree stood by the roadside not far distant, and 
I cleared the fence again and made for it. Although not 
an expert at climbing, I shinned aloft like a squirrel, 
and for a moment expected the bovine to follow. She 
reared on her haunches, and pawed furiously at the sway- 
ing branches; then, backing several feet, she charged 
headlong against the sapling, almost dislocating every 
bone of my body and every hair of my head. 

All but shaken out of the tree-top, I contrived to 
gather in my legs and to wind them round the slender 
trunk. Then I reached for my revolvers. My Colt 44 
was missing, but with my Smith & Wesson 32, I pep- 
pered that cow, until I shot away a section of her tail, 
and sent her off in a cloud of dust — like a howling, rag- 
ing cyclone — in the direction of her calf. 

I waited a while before venturing down to look for 
my animals, now conspicuous for tfieir absence. Dark- 
ness had settled on the scene. Groping my way up the 
road, I soon stumbled over a pair of boots, further on a 
camera, and a hundred yards beyond my Winchester 
rifle, minus its holster. 

Still no sign of donkeys or dog. I stopped at a farm 

167 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

house and inquired: "Have you seen two jackasses 
strolling this way?" 

The agriculturist pulled his goatee as he surveyed me 
from foot to crown, and replied : "No, I hain't seen two 
jackasses strollin' this way, but a whole herd of 'em came 
tearing past my barnyard a-kitin' about an hour ago, 
skeerin' the cattle I was a-milkin' into fits. Why! the 
brayin' and takin's on of the wild beasts caused a stam- 
pede of my hull gol-darned dairy. What be ye at a-pes- 
terin' round these parts with a herd of wild jackasses?" 

My response was terse, and was given before the man 
had finished. I hurried on, making inquiries at other 
farmhouses before I found my fugitive caravan huddling 
together in a corral, a mile beyond. My dog was with 
them, but no cows or calves. 

Borrowing a lantern and two halters, I retraced my 
steps down the highway, my unwilling animals in tow, 
and resaddled and packed them as best I could; then I 
returned the loan and hastened to town. 



i68 



"/;/ this way I 

crossed that bridgi 

of size." 




I sazv the streah 
of daylight." 



"So slow tJiat Jjis shadoic beat him to town. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

BY MAC a'rONY. 

An uneducated person, seeing a picture of a donkey in a field, 
sees only a donkey in a field, however well it may be painted, and 
I fancy very exceptional ability would be required to make any of 
us think a gray donkey sublime, or believe an ordinary field to be 
one of Elysian. — Ideala — Sarah Grand. 

There will be many converts to the Darwinian Theory 
by the time I have taken Pythagoras Pod to his destina- 
tion. They are recruiting all along the line. 

The Professor's street lecture in De Kalb in a mist was 
punctuated with effusive allusions to his "obstreperous 
asses," which epithet only strengthened our ill-feeling 
toward him, and furnished a new incentive for Cheese's 
rascality. When Pod reached the middle of an elegant 
burst of rhetoric, that animal, true to asinine instinct, 
pushed a hind foot against the orator's stomach and 
brought the speech to a finish. The aftlicted one was ten- 
derly borne away, I know not whither, but Cheese whis- 
pered probably to a blacksmith's where a bellows could be 
had with which to pump wind into the vacuum. 

The following day, my master having come to, it was 
decreed that Cheese and I be taken to a smith's to have 
our corns pared, and our shoes repaired. Whenever Pod 
has an idle moment — thank Balaam he hasn't many ! — ^he 
amuses himself by torturing a donkey. Shoes are a nui- 
sance, especially new shoes, and I would much rather go 
barefoot as do country boys and girls. 

169 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

The blacksmith, an expert cobbler, shook hands with 
us, with special deference to Cheese, who was to have 
the new footgear, then informed my master that if we 
jacks would treat him with respect he would do what was 
right, but if not, he would inflict on him what he himself 
had received from us. I overheard Pod mutter as he de- 
parted that he was sure that villain Cheese was going to 
kick him by proxy. 

When Pod returned, that incorrigible donkey had both 
smiths in a corner, and was kicking knots out of the walls. 
Soon that shop appeared as if constructed of perforated 
cardboard, and the two men as if they were worsted. 
Both men were saved, however, by Pod, who ran to a 
bakery for some cakes with which he completely sub- 
jugated the murderous brute, and enabled the men to 
complete the work. 

All next day we labored through mud, which made my 
feet feel good, but spoiled the looks of our new shoes. 
That day the Professor bought a new donkey. 

"Sell him cheap, sound as a dye," said the man. Per- 
haps this was the truth, but he was the funniest donkey 
I ever set eyes on. His face resembled a poodle dog's, ex- 
cept that it was longer, and he appeared to be a combina- 
tion of crosses between South American llama. Rocky 
Mountain sheep, baby camel, and muley cow, with only a 
sprinkling of donkey blood. After this freak was roped 
to my saddle and we had proceeded a little way, I asked, 
"Excuse me, friend, but what stock did you descend 
from ?" 

"Why, live stock," said the simpleton. 

The rest of us hid our faces ; but I persisted, "Who's 
your father?" 

"I never had a father," he returned. "If I did, he never 
showed up in my lifetime. As for my mother, she kicked 

170 



A DONK WITHOUT A FATHER. 

the tenderloins out of a farmer's thoroughbred pig, in 
consequence of which I was left to shift for myself, so 
you can't call me a shiftless fellow." 

Well, the poor fellow ain't quite as bad off as Topsy, I 
thought — she had neither father nor mother. 

For a week back Cheese had been complaining of a 
weak foot, which explains why Pod desired an emerg- 
ency donkey. The heavy roads would have taxed a dray 
horse. But by shifting the burden from Cheese and my- 
self to the new acquisition we were able to make better 
time with less effort. 

The sun was hot, and Poodle's long coat dripped with 
perspiration. Before long, we were stopped in front of a 
house, where a man was cutting the grass with a lawn- 
mower. 

''Hay, there, Mister !" Pod shouted ; "will you loan me 
that machine a moment? I'll remunerate you handsomely 
for the kindness." 

The farmer just shouldered that machine and fetched it 
down to the roadside. Then my master dismounted, and 
whispering to the granger something I couldn't under- 
stand, to my utter astonishment deliberately pushed that 
lawn-mower almost the whole length of that donkey's 
back. 

I recall the incident so vividly. First sounded the noisy 
swish of the mower, next the fragrant air was hazy with 
flying hair, hat, man and mowing machine. A moment 
of painful silence followed, when suddenly a clatter from 
the roof of the house indicated that the jackass had 
promptly returned the machine to its owner. 

Poor Pod, it looked as if he were no mower. The farm- 
er laid him gently on the grass, where he finally awoke, 
and with the aid of hard cider and a fanning machine was 
restored. Three miles beyond he caught the refractory 

171 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

jack that meant only to harm the machine, he said, and 
not the man, and securing a sHpnoose to Poodle's tail, 
roped him to my saddle; next he tied Cheese to my tail, 
and leaping aboard his new expedient led the way. 

All at once Poodle espied two donkeys grazing in a 
field. "I must say a farewell to my sweethearts before 
leaving," he protested, braying and making a dash for the 
fence, dragging me after him. I often wonder if he had 
any feeling left in his tail after that; for while it pained 
me to drag Cheese, it must have caused Poodle more pain 
to tow us two by resorting to such a sensitive extreme. 
Had not the fence been a thorn hedge, I verily believe 
that that "Samson" would have dragged us across lots to 
his sweethearts. I never saw Pod so enraged. 

On nearer approach to Rochelle, we stopped in front of 
a house where Pod purchased a drink of milk of a woman 
who was passing milk cans to a man in a wagon. Neither 
the man nor the woman asked a question, much to my 
surprise, until we had proceeded some distance, when to 
prevent a tragedy, nature asserted herself and impelled 
the woman to call out : "Say, what be them thar animiles 
ye-ve got, stranger ?" 

"Two are camels, and one is a dromedary," Pod yelled. 

"Dromedary!" The woman exclaimed; and, to the 
man, added, "That's a new sort of dairy I never heered 
tell of. Did you. Hank?" 



172 



CHAPTER XXII. 

BY PYE POD. 

'*By my faith, Signer Don Quixote," quoth the duchess, "that 
must not be; you shall be served by four of my damsels, all 
beautiful as roses." "To me," answered Don Quixote, "they 
will not be as roses, but even as thorns pricking me to the very 
soul ; they must in nowise enter my chamber." — Don Quixote. 

From Rochelle to the Mississippi I found the people 
more conservative, but interesting subjects for character 
study. The topography of the country varied but little 
Snipe, quail, doves and meadow larks were prevalent. 
The pesty pocket-gophers were as shy of my fire-arms 
as of the farmers' dogs ; one might shoot a dozen of them 
only to see the spry little fellows drop dead into their 
"home-made" graves. I have seen hundreds of them sit- 
ting upright on as many mounds, immovable as sticks, but 
pop! and they vanished. 

Crossing this one-time prairie state, I recalled pictures 
of prairie fires in my school-books, and easily imagined 
the terror of the droves of wild horses and buffalo, fleeing 
before the leaping flames. 

This seemed to be a contented section, and contentment 
is a great thing. Although no woodland was visible, I 
saw occasional clusters of "pussy willows," and groups of 
shade-trees embowering a house, above which the shaft 
of an aeromotor towered like a sentinel, asserting the 
homestead rights. When the windwheels were in motion, 
they created a noise which only an expert linguist could 
distinguish from the vernacular of a guinea hen. 

173 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRlCAJNii DECK 

Were and there bunches of cattle browsed in the mead- 
ows behind barbed-wire fences and thorn hedges ; and 
long corn-cribs, often full to overflowing, had rewarded 
most every farmer. 

About dark. May first, my small caravan ambled into 
the village of Ashton, and my bugle blasts aroused the 
nodding inhabitants sufficiently to give me a fair audience 
for a lecture. The Germans predominated, and to them 
May-day festivals are indispensable. Boys and girls cele- 
brate by hanging May-baskets on door knobs, and a few 
wags, who resemble frogs, in that a half dozen make you 
think they are a million, shower corn, sand and bird shot 
at windows equal to a Kansas hail-storm. 

The celebration that night seemed to be directed at my 
particular window. The racket had almost soothed me to 
sleep, when suddenly a rag doll loaded with shot came 
smashing through the blinds and landed on my bed. My 
patience overtaxed, I arose and resorted to free trade by 
exporting to the street a piece of crockery, and a chair, 
not to mention a few roasted invectives. I would have 
folded my bedstead and sent it sailing after them, but the 
disturbance of the peace and the pieces ceased together. 

While at breakfast I wondered if any tricks had been 
played on my animals. I was quit( sure of it before reach- 
ing the stable. The livery keeper came hobbling up on 
one foot and a crutch, with his face done up in fly-paper, 
and a bandage around his head. 

What's up?" I asked. 

'Jacks got the spasms." 

''You mean spavins," I corrected, innocently enough. 

"Guess I ought to know the difference 'tween spasms 

and spavins," he returned, sourly. "Those d mules 

o' yourn kicked out petitions, hollared, and had such fits 

174 






RAT TRAP AND DONKEY'S TAIL. 

last night that they scared all the mice and rats outen the 
haymow." 

"What kind of petitions ?" I asked, remembering I had 
been tempted to issue a petition on my own account. 

"What kind d'y, 'spose? Wooden petitions," said he. 
"And when I crawled out o' bed and went to the stalls to 
see what ailed 'em " 

"Ailed the petitions ?" I interrupted, excitedly. 

"Naw, the mules, — something like a thousand rats and 
mice ran over my bare feet. I thought the barn must be 
afire, and I jumped so the lantern fell outen my hand and 
broke, and I had to feel my way in the dark." 

"You ought to know better than to feel around strange 
donkeys, night or day," said I, reprovingly. 

"It wasn't th' feelin' of 'em what broke me up so," said 
he. " 'Twas the kindlin' wood they piled up again me." 

"I did not discuss further the circumstances ; I was 
quite satisfied, since we had grievances in common. 
While settling my bill, I noticed Mac gaze at the ceiling, 
so I glanced upward, too, and at once saw hanging to a 
nail on a cross-beam a circular rat-trap, bent almost flat, 
and containing two dead rodents. That solved the mys- 
tery. On recovering the trap, we found it sprinkled with 
donkey hair, and sheep twine, which was proof enough 
that some young villain had fastened a cage full of rats to 
Mac A'Rony's tail, he being the most amiable of the 
donkeys. There is nothing like the mysterious to frighten 
a dumb brute, and when that donkey heard strange noises 
and felt mysterious movements about his hind legs, he 
didn't wait for an explanation. Good-bye, rats ! 

Although the day dawned clear, dark clouds began 
early to bank in the Southwest, and before I could reach 
the next town I was drenched by a heavy shower. But I 
was fortunate in selling Cheese II, my weak-footed jack, 

175 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

for seven dollars to the village butcher, who, while in 
Ashton, had generously fed my dog. 

Wet to my skin, I took refuge in a German tavern man- 
aged by a widow with five comely daughters. All were 
kind and responsive to my wants, and brought to my 
room a varied assortment of house pets, literature, and 
cheese, not omitting a bottle of beer, for my entertainment 
and refreshment, while I remained in bed enveloped in 
comforters, waiting for my only suit of clothes to dry by 
the kitchen fire. Meanwhile I became almost asphyxiated 
from the gas generated by the Limburger cheese which 
had already smothered two hearty slices of bread. The 
next day I spent in Dixon, and the following day in 
Sterling, situated on Rock River. From my bedroom 
window I had a charming view of the dam falls and the 
iron bridge which spans the stream. My sojourn in both 
these towns was profitable. 

It was a hot and dusty ride to Morrison, where I found 
a brass band serenading a leading citizen. **This won't 
do," said I ; and making Mac bray, I blew my bugle, and 
at once turned the tide of popularity in our favor. The 
fickle crowd soon gathered and cheered me to the hotel, 
while the jilted band had the brass to march down the 
street past me, blowing itself with might and main until 
lost to view, not once thinking that distance lent enchant- 
ment to my ear. Next day we made slow headway to the 
Mississippi. 

As I approached the "Father of Waters" the land, as 
well as my donkeys, were more rolling. Several times 
when wading through a pool of dust. Cheese III, alias 
Poodle, would suddenly stop, circle about, kneel and roll 
with all the paraphernalia he was carrying. Then my 
steed would follow suit, before I could get out of the 
saddle. 

176 



RAT TRAP AND DONKEY'S TAIL. 

Thirteen miles from Morrison lay the village of Fulton, 
on the banks of the Mississippi, and it was 4:30 P. M. 
before we arrived at the big high bridge. The bridge 
approach on each side of the river crosses a broad stretch 
of lowlands which at certain seasons is inundated. My 
donkeys refused to pass the toll-gate, although I had paid 
the toll. I demanded of Mac an explanation. He main- 
tained silence, as did Cheese, and neither of them would 
budge. A squad of laborers, amused at my plight, as- 
serted their donkey nature by imitating an ass's bray, and 
so perfect was the imitation that my animals took them for 
donkeys disguised in human apparel, and joined in the 
awful chorus. Presently a timid woman following us 
with a terpsichorean horse called to me and gesticulated 
wildly. I feared a runaway and was at a loss to know 
how to urge my contrary animals on, but before long a 
double dray team came to my assistance. The teamster 
roped Mac to the rear axle of his wagon, cracked his 
whip, and drove on, dragging the obdurate donkey on his 
haunches across the bridge, while Cheese crept closely be- 
hind in fear and trembling. 

When I had crossed the Mississippi it was exactly 
seventeen minutes past five. 

As we wended our way into Clinton, la., cheers greeted 
us from every quarter. ''The streets were rife with people 
pacing restless up and down ;" but soon all footsteps fol- 
lowed in one direction, to the Reviere House, where I 
took advantage of the favorable circumstances to make a 
speech, and to dispose of a host of my chromos. 

I had traveled thirteen hundred and sixty miles, about 
one-third of the distance by trail from New York to San 
Francisco, and had consumed one hundred and sixty 
days ; and there was left me only one hundred and eighty- 
one days in which to accomplish the remaining two-thirds 
of my journey. 

177 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



Hell is paved with good intentions. — Samuel Johnson. 

How the Professor ever landed that lop-sided, dilapi- 
dated tile of his on the west bank of the Mississippi with- 
out a bottle of fish-glue is beyond me. 

The wind gave our whole outfit a good blowing up for 
not crossing the bridge earlier in the day, and Pod had 
to handle the hat as carefully as an umbrella to prevent 
it's turning inside out. 

Except at such times, we donks were the only ones to 
get a "blowing ;" the threats Pod used to coerce us across 
that lofty bridge and his final cruel expedient of having 
a double team drag me with a rope around my neck were 
enough to drive one to suicide. 

"We must reach Iowa to-day," said he. "You show ab- 
solutely no interest whatever in the next state; but I'll 
convert you." I protested until I was hoarse. Said I, 
"When you take into consideration all the different ani- 
mals that came out of the ark, — monkey, parrot, man and 
ass, — and the results of several thousand years of study 
and research, how many believe in any other state ? Only 
one. Man. There are a few horses and dogs and cats 
and, occasionally, a white rat, that enjoy heaven on earth, 

but we jackasses are always catching ! The last 

word of my peroration was spilled, as my master whacked 
me over the ears with his black-snake whip and knocked 
all the theological and theosophical considerations out of 
my head. 

178 



MAC CROSSES THE MISSISSIPPI. 

"Get along, there, Mac," he shouted, "and quit your 
everlasting braying ;" and as the horses started, I "got," 
to save my neck. 

When we reached the middle of the bridge and I was 
over my dizziness, I slackened my neck rope and followed 
the wagon more willingly, but my fetlocks bled from 
scraping on the rough planks and my rich aristocratic 
blood painted a faint red trail behind us. It was a hot 
day ; I burned as with a fever, and wanted a drink. 

"And they call this the 'Father of Waters,' " my master 
soliloquized, as he watched the sluggish current creep un- 
der the bridge. 

"What do they call the father of beer?" I asked, 
facetiously, for I was mad. 

"Mac," said Pod, "you have brought me back to earth. 
Let us hurry to town." 

When we were on Iowa soil, the Prof, tied his "stove- 
pipe" over my ears with a green ribbon, and added 
insult to injury by making me parade into Clinton in that 
condition before all the genteel donkeys along the road. 

We stopped at the post-office, and Pod read on the way 
to the hotel portions of two letters, one informing him 
that his sombrero was at the express office, the other cast- 
ing aspersions on my race. "Yes, I did promise to meet 
you at the Mississippi and accompany you across the 
plains," the letter ran, "but really, old man, after reading 
your articles, I have concluded that I want nothing to do 
with a jackass." 

Pod seemed disappointed and, handing the envelope to 
me, said, "Here, Mac, what do you think of it ?" I greed- 
ily devoured the contents without a murmur, and the Pro- 
fessor galloped into the express office. 

"Do you realize that you have swallowed a postage 

179 



•■ ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

stamp?" Cheese asked, gravely, after I had stowed away 
the morsels of paper. 

"Most assuredly," I said, smacking my Hps, "and here- 
after you can look upon me as a sort of internal revenue 
collector." 

But now Pod appeared under cover of a broad-brimmed 
hat, looking frightfully cowboyish. That evening the 
sombrero so completely unbalanced his head that he saun- 
tered up the street armed to the teeth, and attempted to 
"hold up" an Indian cigar sign, to the amusement and 
terror of passing pedestrians. Later on, he became more 
rational, and gave a street lecture. 

Friday, May seventh, was a lucky day for Pod and 
me. Friday is Pod's and the seventh of the month is 
mine, — with a few exceptions ; hence, the Prof, has on 
an average of four and a half to my one. 

His first errand in Clinton was an act of courtesy. He 
called on Mr. Gobble, the genial Mayor, and obtained one 
of his quills to embellish the autograph album which was 
destined to furnish me a delectable repast, unless Pod 
should find a gold cure to destroy my appetite for sta- 
tionery. 

His second errand was to place an order for panniers to 
be made after his own designs, for they would soon be 
needed ; and his third, to call at the stable and superin- 
tend a tonsorial artist clip Cheese III after the devil's de- 
signs. The circus had begun when he arrived. There, 
tangled in straps and ropes, lay the frightened subject on 
the stable floor, kicking, while several men were perform- 
ing rare feats of tumbling. Pod was indignant. 

"Is it necessary to pile on the donkey in that fashion ?" 
he inquired, starting up a ladder to the loft. 

"I reckon so, squire," said the clipper, rubbing his 
bruised arm ; "we tied the brute t' auger-holes in the floor, 

i8o 



MAC CROSSES THE MISSISSIPPI. 

but he yanked the holes plumb out o' the boards, and we 
bored 'em in agin. Then he brayed, and strained, and 
pulled out the holes agin. What's he been livin' on? 
Indian turnips ?" 

Pulled the holes out of the floor! Such an astonishing 
statement was enough to warp a donkey's credulity. But 
the operation was finished at last, and Pod returned to the 
hotel to answer some letters, one of which seemed to tickle 
him very much. It was from a farmer in the neighbor- 
hood, and I'll quote it word for word. 

CoRNViLLE Hollow^ Iowa, May 6, 1897. 
Prof. Pithygors Pod, Eskire, M. D. : 

Illustrious Sir : — My wife has give me unexpeckted 
opertunety ter do ye the grate onner of namin our latest 
and last kid after ye and if ye cum this here way ye will 
see a namesake ye will be prowd of. Times are not so 
good with us of late but hope they air with you wishing 
you a socksessfull jurny I remane Yours fraternally 

Cy Sumac. 

I did not see Pod's reply, but I took him to the post of- 
fice to purchase a ninety-nine cent money order, which he 
mailed to Cy, and overheard him say that was all the 
money he had when he started and no man had a right to 
think he was any richer now, and hoped naming children 
after him wasn't going to become a fad. 

On our way to the hotel a little girl, walking with her 
papa, expressed the wish to ride on my back. Pod over- 
heard her, and jumping off, placed the little one in the 
saddle, and led me down the street. 

Pod is never safe without a chaperone. He had no 
more than got his land legs than a monstrous colored 
woman, whose avoirdupois was out of proportion to her 

181 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

energy, and with shoes that made him keep his distance, 
stepped in his way, and with a grin half the width of an 
adult watermelon asked him if he was "shully dat wonder- 
ful traveler Pye-tag-o-rastus w'at was chasin' a mule roun 
de world." 

For a second Pod was somewhat colored, too; but he 
laughed, and said he believed he was the gentleman. Then 
the old mammy held out a great black hand, with knotted 
fingers, looking more like an elephant's foot than anything 
else, and asked if she might have the honor to walk a 
piece with him. The Professor took the proffered hand, 
and the pair sauntered on down town, and were soon lost 
in the crowd. 



182 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

BY PYE POD. 

"Why, Toby's nought but a mongrel ; there's nought to look at 
in her." But I says to him, "Why, what are you yoursen but a 
mongrel? There wasn't much pickin' o' your feyther an' mother, 
to look at you." Not but what I like a bit o' breed myself, but I 
can't abide to see one cur grinnin' at another. — Mill on the Floss. 

The good old black mammy, who made my acquaint- 
ance on the street, called upon me at the hotel to present 
me with a little dog. I thanked her, and told her that 
one dog was all I could take care of; whereupon she ar- 
gued that I should visit the Indian Reservation at Tama 
City, and if I presented a dog to the Chief that I would 
be royally received. A good idea; I wondered it had not 
occurred to me. I accepted the dog. 

An hour later I came near being arrested for promot- 
ing a dog fight m defiance of the law. Don was gener- 
ous, however, and left a little of the cur for the Indian 
Chief, but next morning the sight of a bandaged and 
plastered dog being dragged behind my outfit was grue- 
some indeed. 

This is how I managed the dogs. I chained Don to 
one end of an eight-foot pole, and the mongrel to the 
other, so that the dogs could not get closer than four 
feet. Then I chained Don to the saddle-horn. 

I hoped to reach the town of DeWitt before dark. 
Everything went smoothly and I was congratulating 
myself on getting out of the city without a mishap, when, 
suddenly, both dogs leaped to the opposite side of my 

183 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

donkey in the effort to reach a cat basking in the sun. 
The pole yoke caught Mac's hind legs and upset us, al- 
most causing a runaway. This and other incidents de- \ 
layed me many hours. On arriving at the village tavern, 
'*The Farmers' Home," I was agreeably surprised to find i 
the landlord not so much out of spirits as I. A "night i 
cap," then to bed. I 

Next day I rode sixteen miles, through the beautiful | 

farming country to Wheatland. Nature was arrayed in i 

Sabbath attire, and no sermon could have inpressed me j 

more than the pure, sweet voicings of God's creation. \ 

Graceful turtle-doves, always in pairs, flitted in mid-air; j 
bevies of quail whistled in the meadows and ditches; 

flying-squirrels, half winged, half jumped from tree to i 
tree ; and coy Norwegian girls scampered indoors as my 

''mpuntain canaries" now and then joined in a carol. j 

Just before entering town a gay cotton-tail rabbit ' 

shied at my pistol ball, allowing the ball to graze a calf I 
grazing in the field beyond, to wing a pigeon on a barn 

further on, and eventually to announce my advent to the \ 

towns-folk in a most singular manner. j 

When I arrived, the church bell was faintly tolling, and | 

a crowd of people were staring wild-eyed at the belfry ' 

tower. I inquired of a countryman what was up. I 

"Blamed if I know," said the sexton; "I was jest set- 
tin' down to feed, when sudden I heard a sharp clang ; 
of the church bell. Sounded like it was hit with a ham- | 
mer. Whole hour before church, and the doors are j 
locked. Now I'd like to know what sot that bell to • 
chantin'." I 

"Go up and find out," I said. I 

"Not on yer life," he replied. "You may think us folks i 

superstitious — well, we are. Lots of queer things hap- ; 

pen in this town." I 

184 1 



POD HIRES A VALET. 

When I reached the privacy of my room, I did a good 
deal of thinking; but whichever way I reasoned I arrived 
at one conclusion. My pistol ball must have struck the 
bell after calHng on the calf and the pigeon. It was 
merely a chant's shot. 

The landlord of the Siegmund Hotel did not venture 
close enough to shake hands. 

"Doos them dogs bite — yes?" he asked from the ver- 
anda. 

''No," I answered, ''they won't bite you and me, but 
they are very fond of each other." 

Don looked up at me appealingly, as if he thought he 
had been persecuted. When the donkeys and the mon- 
grel were in the barn, I turned Don loose. He was 
tickled, and ran round the barn three times, jumped over 
the hen-coop, upset the landlord, and then chased the 
house cat so that it climbed to the top of the hotel chim- 
ney. Most extraordinary dog; no common pastime sat- 
isfied him. 

The hilly country I was now entering made it neces- 
sary for me to walk half the time, as a precaution against 
wearing out my animals. But the air was sweet with 
lilac, tulip, violet and apple blossoms; blue and red and 
yellow birds serenaded me as I passed, all making me 
feel somewhat repaid for my winter hardships. 

The main street of Mechanicsville was beautifully 
shaded, and along the road-side was a tempting pasture 
for ruminating animals. As I rode along and admired 
the scenes, I recalled a sentence from the Scriptures : 
"Whatsoever cheweth the cud that shall ye eat." To the 
right, in the cool shade, reclined a gentle-eyed cow, 
chewing her cud; to the left, at the base of a magnificent 
tree, sat a pretty bloomer girl beside her bicycle, also 
chewing. I was puzzled. 

185 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

On reaching Mount Vernon, I discovered, after dili- 
gent inquiries, that Washington had never been there, 
dead or alive. Cornell College, for boys and girls, dis- 
tinguishes the place as a seat of learning, and the stu- 
dents showed an abnormal appetite for knowledge by 
purchasing my books and photos. A few miles west I 
crossed a ridge of wooded hills, descended into a lovely 
vale, crossed Cedar River, and drew rein at Bertram, a 
mountain town consisting of a railroad station, side 
track, tavern, store, and two to three houses. 

From Bertram we mounted another and still higher 
ridge, from the summit of which I could see the great 
verdant valley, and, winding about it, a spiral cloud of 
smoke from the busy city of Cedar Rapids, where I ar- 
rived at six o'clock. 

That evening, after a lapse of nine years, I met my old 

friend, Steve D , who once had tramped Switzerland 

with me. After I had explained the cause of my unique 
pilgrimage and each had given an account of himself, he 
planned for me a pleasant two days' sojourn, and sug- 
gested it was time I had a useful traveling companion. 
As I moved westward, the towns would be farther apart 
and I would have to camp often on the highway. The 
services of an able and trusty man would save me much 
time. Steve said he would try to find him. 

Cedar Rapids contains some of the largest oatmeal 
factories in the country. I met through my friend sev- 
eral pleasant people, dined with his family, and was ten- 
dered a spread at the Grand Hotel, to which a few of his 
friends were invited. Meanwhile I found the man I was 
looking for. 

He was about twenty, had been night porter in a hotel, 
and was well recommended. Twice I refused him be- 
cause of his apparent inexperience in "roughing it," but 

i86 



POD HIRES A VALET. 

I was won over by his persistence at the third call. He 
said his name was "Coonskin," and Wisconsin the State 
of his nativity. His attainments were something extraor- 
dinary. He could sling a Saratoga trunk into a first 
story window; had painted the highest church steeples, 
and broken the wildest horses; could skin all kinds of 
game, and, with equal facility, could "skin the cat;" in 
fact, he had made an enviable record in athletics, and had 
won several championships for sprints. He could swim 
like a frog, and, as for shooting, his comrades couldn't 
touch him with any kind of a gun. He was never ill, and 
had stood all kinds of exposures from hanging all night 
on a church steeple after his ladder had fallen, to riding 
on the trucks of a baggage car, as the result of the dis- 
banding of a theatre troupe. 

This Coonskin was a wonderful combination of re- 
sources; he was the very man I wanted. He wished to 
go with me for fun and experience, and was perfectly sat- 
isfied if I would defray his expenses. I took Coonskin 
at once to make the acquaintance of Mac, Cheese, Don, 
and the mongrel, and to be assigned to his duties. 

At nine o'clock the morning of our departure, he 
called at the hotel with a small bundle done up in a red 
handkerchief, and wearing a new pair of shoes. 
"What have you in that bundle?" I asked. 
"Everything." 
"Extra suit of clothes?" 
"Yep — and patches for emergency." 
"Extra shoes already broken to your feet?" 
"Yep — and chloride-of-lime and extra socks." 
"Brush and comb and tooth brush?" 
"Yep — and corn plasters and curry-comb." 
"Extra suit of underwear and handkerchiefs?" 
"Yep. Pajandrums, too." 

187 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I smiled in astonishment, so small was the bundle. 
"Well done," said I, "after this you shall do all my pack- 
mg. 

I was gratified to note Coonskin's quick perception, 
his alertness to obey, and his capacity for memorizing. 
He did not have to be told a thing more than three times 
before understanding it, and his lively interest in my wel- 
fare manifested itself at the start. When I went to the 
stable at eleven o'clock, I found he had added to my 
itinerant kennel a bull terrier, which took to Don as 
fondly as Don had taken to the mongrel. I remonstrated. 

"The more dogs you offer the Indian Chief, the bigger 
time he will give you," said my valet. "Better keep the 
terrier; Til preserve harmony." 

Glad to shift some of my responsibilities to the broad 
shoulders of this young genius, I returned to the hotel 
and dressed for luncheon. 

You may imagine how my heart was set aflutter when 
luncheon over, my valet rapped on the door and, ventur- 
ing a foot in the room, said, with the courtliness of a 
Sancho Panza, "Your highness' donkeys and dogs are 
at the door." 

My guests were as much amused as I, and accom- 
panied me to the street, where a crowd had assembled. 
I shall never forget the expression on my old friend's 
face when he saw the dogs yoked together. A second 
pole had been brought into use, and, Don and the mon- 
grel having become reconciled, the bull terrier was made 
a sort of pivot round which revolved the other two, a 
mean dog between two extremes. 

Coonskin said at first he had made the little mongrel 
act as the pivotal dog, but he had no sooner left the ani- 
mals than Don and Towser swung round and clinched 
in pugilistic style, and, had it not been for the efficacy of 

i88 



POD HIRES A VALET. 

the stable hose, with all hands at the pump, the mongrel 
would have soon been converted into sausage. 

It was nineteen miles to the village of Norway; we did 
not arrive there till eleven at night. Once or twice on 
the way Coonskin was prevailed upon to relieve me in 
the saddle for a couple of miles; but although his new 
shoes were paining him, as I could see from his gait, he 
was too "game" to admit it, and whenever I asked him 
to ride, protested that walking wasn't a circumstance 
with him. He would rather walk than eat. 

We found Norway asleep. After assisting Coonskin 
to stable the donks and secure the dogs, I perused a 
newspaper while my young neophyte went out to smoke. 
When he limped in, I noticed his coat pocket bulged 
with something he would conceal. I did not question 
him. But before retiring, I opened his door to give him 
orders for the morrow, and found him dressing his feet 
with Indian ointment, which he admitted he had pro- 
cured from the village druggist. He had with difficulty 
aroused the man from slumber, in consequence of which 
he was made to pay double price for his cure. Coonskin 
was somewhat embarrassed, but I praised his pluck in 
glowing terms, and put him at ease. Next day he was 
ready to take advice, by wearing his old shoes and riding 
most of the journey. 



189 



CHAPTER XXV. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



What made Balaam celebrated as an astronomer ? 
He found an ass-to-roid. — Old Conundrum. 

I had heard about the chilly climate of Norway, and was 
not surprised when we donks met with a cold reception. 
We had plenty of hay but no grain. Next morning the 
landlord said that he expected some oats soon after our 
departure. 

Pod had walked the last three miles, and warming up, 
had strapped his vest to the saddle, where I found it next 
morning. Peaking out of a pocket was a crisp five dol- 
lar greenback 

Now, a donkey likes anything that's green. I never 
had eaten a vest. But I determined to tackle this some- 
what tough corduroy "steak," and made a fair breakfast 
on it, not to speak of its garnishes of green money, lead 
pencils, and a scented lace handkerchief, the one my 
master had long carried in the left inside pocket. Save 
for the fact that I got a few sharp bones of a pocket- 
comb in my teeth, and a page of court-plaster stuck in 
my throat, I relished the repast. 

But not so the Professor. When he had searched 
some time for the vest, he looked at me. As luck would 
happen, I had left sufficient circumstantial evidence on 
the saddle to convict most any donkey, but no one in 
particular. However, I suppose I looked guilty, and 

190 



DONE BY A HORSETRADER. 

my past record was against me. Pod was speechless a 
moment, then he made up for lost time, and said that he 
believed a jackass would devour a house and lot if he 
had the chance. 

"I don't know about a house," I repHed, "but I know I 
could eat a lot if it were set before me." Then I caught 
it! 

By nine o'clock the clouds having dispersed, we start- 
ed for Blairstown. 

The Iowa farms were pleasing to my eye. Horses and 
cattle were cropping the juicy grass, hogs were shelling 
corn or taking mud-baths, fowls of all kinds were en- 
gaged in athletic sports trying to add some new feather 
to their plumage, and occasional bunches of sheep were 
standing in barnyards and corrals with wool pulled over 
their eyes, not knowing what to do with themselves. It 
looked like a Garden of Eden, where donkeys were ex- 
cluded. 

Finally we met a farmer with a team of lazy horses. 
Pod asked him if a donkey was a known quantity in 
those parts, and was told that a man by the name of 

K , living near the next town, owned two that he had 

been trying to give away. A mile beyond, we met a man 
in a one-horse gig, who had a word to say, too. One 
donkey knows another when he meets him. 

''Your name is K ?" Pod inquired. 

"That's the name I always went by," said the black- 
eyed, black-hearted man. I did not like his looks; I 
felt it in my bones that Pod was going to be "done" by 
him. When a man or donkey is over anxious to acquire 
something, he is pretty sure to make a blunder. On be- 
ing catechised, the man said his business was "boss trad- 
in' some, farmin' some, and various some." 

"Hear you've got a donkey for sale," Pod observed. 

191 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"Nope," said K , "but IVe got two of 'em. Sell 

both er none." 

"I was told you have tried to give them away," said 
Pod. 

The "hoss trader" threw one leg over the other, spat 
tobacco juice in Don's eyes so he couldn't see all that 
might a-cur, raked timothy seed out of his whiskers, and 
inquired, "Who was tellin' ye that?" 

"The fellow didn't give his name," answered Pod, "and 
I wouldn't undertake to describe his physical geography, 
but I could locate him if I wished to." 

"If I could lay my hands on him, I'd dislocate him," 
said K , snapping his eyes. 

When my master told about his travels, the lowan be- 
came interested, and showed signs of weakening on his 
ultimatum. Meanwhile, I discovered the subjects of the 
discussion grazing in a meadow, and brayed them a 
courteous "how to do," thus calling Pod's attention to 
them. 

The hoss trader was sharp enough to see it, and his 
animal instinct told him that vanity was Pod's weak 
point; so he opened up with a little blarney. 

"Now, Mr. Pod, I'm fair t' say I've sort o' takin' a 
likin' to ye, and I want to help ye along. I'll sell both 
my donkeys for ten dollars, er one for five and trade the 
other for one of your'n. Jest let your partner here run 
across the field and drive 'em over. I want ye to see 
'em." 

Coonskin went, and K continued: "They're two 

as fine-lookin' jennies as ye'll run across in many a day, 
both healthy and strong — -not too young — not too old — 
often plow with 'em — kind and gentle — boy rides 'em 
everywhere — fast, too, but no danger runnin' away. 

192 



DONE BY A HORSETRADER. 

Why, they're twice the size o' your'n, and '11 carry double 
the load." 

**I'm more than satisfied with my donkeys" (very 
flattering to Cheese and myself), Pod affirmed, ''and 
only require one more. If I am suited with one of your 
donkeys, I am willing to pay five dollars for it, but I 
will not trade one of mine, nor will I purchase both of 
yours." 

By this time the animals arrived. They were certainly 
big enough, and as for the danger of their running away, 
they didn't act as if they could run ten feet if charged 
with a thousand volts of electricity. The farmer said he 
was bound to make a satisfactory deal with Pod some- 
how, and that if he wasn't convinced by the time we 
reached his house that both animals weren't superior to 
either of his (an absurdity on the face of it), then he 
would consider some other proposition. 

When we reached the house. Cheese and I were gen- 
erously fed, and Pod and Coonskin invited into dinner. 

Then K chased his donks around the yard, and 

felt them all over, and finally hoodwinked my master to 
buy one, and trade the other for Cheese. I could have 
kicked the daylight out of that man. 

When K was on his way to town with his five dol- 
lars, Pod came to the stable. My new companions were 
crabbed old spinsters, and raised some objections to go- 
ing with me. 

''Where are you bound?" one asked. 

"San Francisco," said I, "but I don't know where that 
is any more than do you. Guess it's land's end." Then 
I told them how far I had come, and that Pod said only 
a few days before that the journey had only begun; also, 
that he expected we donks would fall off some before 

193 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

long, from which I inferred the fall would be gradual and 
the horrors of death prolonged. 

It was enough to frighten the wits out of any old maid, 
and it took a pitchfork, two hoe-handles and a crowbar 
to get those donkeys out of the gate. Then one of them 
balked, kicked, threw Coonskin, broke her halter, and 
ran back into the yard. She could run after all. 

That was enough for Pod. He rode me back into the 
yard, and told Coonskin to fetch Cheese out of the barn. 
And it didn't take him long to shift the blanket from that 
gray spinster to my old chum. 

"You just tell your dad when he returns," said Pod 

to K 's son, ''that I don't intend to put up with any 

such game. He grossly misrepresented that donkey; it 
would take a week to travel a mile with her. As I have 
paid him for the other one, she belongs to me and I shall 
push her along with the outfit. But this animal," and he 
pointed to Cheese, "is mine yet awhile. Good-bye." 

"Do as you like," K , Jr., replied. "I know nothin' 

'bout yer agreement." 

We covered the first mile in slow time. Coonskin's 
new steed was forever stopping, and straying out of the 
road to eat grass. The young man wore himself out 
keeping her moving by rapping her with the flat side of 
a hatchet. This big, brown jenny was made of the right 
stuff, but evidently lacked training and experience. 

We were yet a half mile to Blairstown when a young 
woman and a child drove toward us with a skittish horse. 
It acted as though it had never seen a donkey. It 
pricked up its ears, and snorted, and, so help me Balaam! 
in a jii¥y that buggy was on its side, the girls on the 
ground, and the horse running to beat a cyclone. Luck- 
ily, the girls escaped injury. My master was as fright- 
ened as he was chivalrous, and assisting the girls to their 

194 



DONE BY A HORSETRADER. 

feet, invited them to ride us donkeys to town; which 
kind offer was respectfully declined. 

On our arrival, Pod took us to a blacksmith's to have 
the new donkey's fore feet measured for a pair of shoes. 
The smith seemed to be much taken with me, and said 
I had the smallest feet of all the gentlemen donks he ever 
met. The remark so tickled my vanity that I nibbled at 
his coat tail, whereupon he turned to me and inquired, 
''What kind of a donkey are you? Chinese?" 

"Not much," said I, indignantly, "My name is Irishy, 
and I always supposed I was a thoroughbred Irish ass, 
but I'm beginning to believe I'm a roamin' donkey, af- 
ter all." 

I could see that Pod expected trouble from some quar- 
ter, but none of us knew just where the lightning would 
strike. The next village, Luzerne, lay fifteen miles to 
the west. My lady companion did not carry herself too 
gracefully, nor her rider, either. She was broad and flat 
across the hips, and, as Coonskin did not possess a sad- 
dle, he found it more comfortable to sit far back on her 
where he could get a good swing of the fence rail he sub- 
stituted for a whip. 

We were ambling peacefully along the dusty road late 
in the afternoon, when Pod broke the silence with a word 
to his valet. 

"Well, Coonskin," said he, "what 're you going to call 
your donkey?" 

"Damfino," said Coonskin; and he added, with a 
drawl, "Git ap." 

"You ought to have found a suitable name by this 
time." 

"I have named her," emphasized the young man. 

"Good!" shouted the Professor. "Let's have it then." 

195 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"Damfino," yelled Coonskin, with a wild swing of the 
fence rail. 

Pod's face turned on its axis with a puzzled expres- 
sion, as his eyes regarded the hopeful pioneer. Said he, 
"See here, young man, I know not whether my ears de- 
ceive me, or you are not up on my dialect; you say you 
have named the donkey, yet, when I ask the name, your 
answer impHes a contradiction. Again, what is her 
name?" 

Coonskin drew a long breath, and said loud enough 
to be heard a mile away, "Damfino." 

As the fellow uttered the word, I dropped to the joke 
and, stopping in the road, brayed till my sides ached. 

A new light now came into the Professor's eyes, and 
he smiled. ''Damfino, then, is the lady's angeHc name," 
said he resignedly, "It's odd, it's not inappropriate. Let 
it stand." 

"Very well," returned Coonskin, "I will proceed with 
the ceremony." And letting the fence rail fall on his 
steed's rear quarter, he added, "In the name of the great 
and only Balaam, I christen thee Damfino." It was an 
interesting event. Thenceforth Cheese and I resolved 
to be more choice in our language and decorous in our 
manners in Miss Damfino's presence; and we lived up 
to our pledge two hours before Cheese called Don and 
the bull-terrier bad names for accidentally upsetting Miss 
Damfino with their yoke, and I kicked the tired and 
panting mongrel in the neighborhood of its pants. 



196 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



BY PYE POD. 



Thou hast described 
A hot friend cooling. 

— Julius CcBsar. 

It was nine o'clock in the evening. While we were 
chatting with the landlord of the only tavern in Luzerne, 
a portly, smooth-looking individual entered the room. 
He was clad in a great fur ulster and top boots. After 
a familiar "hello" to the landlord, he eyed me searchingly, 
and added, "Your name is Pod, ain't it ?" 

I said, "I believe so ; yours is what, don't it ?" 

Evidently not pleased with my expression, he instantly 
struck an attitude, or something equally hard, and an- 
nounced, "I'm the sheriff of Borden County, and have 
come for a jack belonging to Mr. K ." 

"Jack?" I interrogated; "boot-jack, apple-jack — " 

'Just plain jack," interrupted the officer. 
'Well," I replied, carelessly, "I have no jack belong- 
ing to Mr. K , but I have the jenny he sold me for 

five dollars. Mr. K imposed upon me, and if he 

will refund the money, I will be only too glad to return 
his hundred-year old mule." 

Here K himself entered. He stormed about, and 

said that I told only a section of the truth. 

The sheriff gave his client a look, which quelled his 
ire for a moment, then, turning to me, said: "You talk 
reasonably enough, Mr. Pod, and doubtless mean right, 

197 






ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

but Mr. K has sworn out a warrant for your arrest ; 

and if you don't want trouble and a double-jointed ad- 
vertisement just turn over to K the jack he claims, 

and send your man back for the gray jenny." 

It may not seem strange that I was converted to the 
officer's way of thinking. 

"Take the donkey you claim," I said to K , **you 

have the advantage of me. I haven't time to fight my 
case in the courts." 

My black-bearded adversary now calmed his temper; 
his victory must have tasted sweet. I calculated the cost 
of the warrant and the sheriff's services to be at least ten 
dollars, since the officer had sacrificed angling for posse 
duty; although he was prevented from catching fish, 
there was a nice mess for me. 

With reluctant equanimity the man who had wished 
to help me along explained that he had boasted of hav- 
ing acquired one of Pye Pod's noted donkeys, but when 
he found I had outwitted him, he swore vengeance. 

On the other hand, the officer had conducted himself 
as a gentleman. 

"Here, Coonskin," said the officer, "take this dollar 
and fetch us a pail of beer;" and, turning to me, added, 
"we must drown ill feeling amongst us, for when you 
come this way again, we'll show you how to catch fish." 

By one o'clock next day Coonskin, weary, hungry, 
and morose, had managed to steer his slow "craft" into 
Luzerne and to moor it in front of the tavern barn. That 
closed the interesting event. 

On our way to Tama City I was greeted by a member 
of assembly, Vv^ho tendered me an invitation from the 
Mayor to dine with them that day. Lounging about the 
shop doors and strolling the streets, on our arrival in 
Tama, were many stately, still proud redskins, who, when 

198 



POD UNDER ARREST. 

they espied me with the wealth of canines collected on 
my way, shied off the scent for "fire-water" and dogged 
my trail to the hotel. 

After dinner with the Mayor and Assemblyman, I 
escorted them to the stable to discover Mac A'Rony 
devouring a new hair-cushioned carriage seat. At once 
the Mayor wanted to buy that donkey outright, head and 
seat, for a round sum. 

On expressing my intention to visit the Indian Reser- 
vation, some three miles away, his Honor gave me let- 
ters of introduction to the Indian Teacher and the Indian 
Instructor in agriculture. There lived the Sac and Fox 
tribe of the Musquaques. I was told that they were one 
of the most primitive tribes in the States, holding on to 
the primeval, and often evil, customs of feeding on dog 
soup, indulging in various kinds of dances, living in tee- 
pees, or wickey-ups, and wearing bears' teeth, eagles' 
claws, scalps, skins and moccasins. As you know, I had 
long hoped to be welcomed as their guest. I was tired 
and weary of the care of my dog pack, and wished to 
present it bodly, save Don, to the Chief. 

About two o'clock we saddled and packed. When 
ready to start, a diminutive bicyclist, mud-bespattered 
and perspiring from a hot century run, he affirmed, 
wheeled up to the stable and, almost before catching his 
breath, introduced himself to me. 

''My name is Barley Korker," said he, "de champion 
lightest-weight wheelman in de United States, weighin' 
jest sixty-eight pounds. I'm jest troo wid a trip from 
New York in one month and tirty-two days. My bicycle 
was giv me by de Cormorant Club of Phil'delfia. De 
Bourbon Club of Chowchow Wheelman of Pittsburg 
put up five hundred dollars 'gainst de wall dat I couldn't 
go all de way to San Francisco and git dere. On de way 

199 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I hears of de great donkey traveler, Professor Pod, so 
I says, rU jest catch up wid him, and mebbe he'll take 
me 'long wid him." 

I at once made the little fellow a proposition, which 
he accepted; if he would wheel ahead of my caravan 
every day, carrying a small flagstaff with a streamer con- 
taining the words, ''Official Courier to Pye Pod," I 
would, as long as he gave satisfaction, defray his travel- 
ing expenses. Barley was delighted. He forthwith pur- 
chased a piece of plum-colored silk and a bit of white silk 
for letters, needles and thread, and, having once been a 
tailor by trade, when we went into camp that night said 
that he would make a beautiful streamer, one I would be 
proud of. He promised to have it completed in a couple 
of days. 

I had not more than finished my business with my 
courier, when a rustic-looking boy rode up on a white 
donkey, and called to me, "Want ter trade?" 

"Not anxious," I returned, but showed no signs of a 
desire to flee. 

"Trade with yer, if you give me five dollars to boot," 
said the enterprising lad. 

"I recalled how I had been swindled recently in a trade, 
and resolved to make a deal with that boy by hook or 
by crook. 

"Do you suppose I would think of trading this thor- 
oughbred Irish ass that has gone around the world for 
your common beast, just because mine is tired from fast 
and long traveling, and yours is fresh?" I saw I had 
made an impression; the lad dismounted, and examined 
Cheese IV, critically. 

" I hain't no money to-day," said the boy, "but if you'll 
give me two dollars to boot I'll trade." 

"What! do you want the earth?" I exclaimed. "Only 

200 



POD UNDER ARREST. 

before dinner I paid two dollars to have this donkey- 
shod. I don't intend to pay two dollars more to shoe 
your animal." 

The lad replied "All right," and galloped away, but 
had only gone a short distance when I hailed him. He 
came back without hesitation, and I then concluded a 
bargain. It was agreed that a blacksmith should take 
the new shoes off Cheese and put them on his donkey, 
and that I should pay him three dollars to boot. An 
hour later Cheese V was shod, bridled and saddled, and 
that afternoon became Coonskin's mount, Damfino car- 
rying the principal portion of our luggage, and Mac 
A'Rony his master. 

My party reached the Reservation in time for me to 
meet the Indian teacher before he left school, my courier 
having wheeled ahead to announce my coming. 

I was greeted warmly when I presented the Mayor's 
letter, was shown some of the lodges of the tribe, and 
made acquainted with a few of the foremost braves of 
the camp. The teacher was an admirable interpreter, 
and the Indians grunted approvingly at meeting such a 
noted personage as Professor Pye Pod, 

A fat old buck named Ne-tah-twy-tuck (old one), on 
being presented, extended me his hand, muttering, "How 
do?" His grip almost mashed my fingers. 

"Much dog," he observed, eyeing my pack with doubt- 
ful admiration. 

"Yes, too much," I replied; I want to visit Me-tah-ah- 
qua, your great chief, and give him a heap of dogs." 
The Indian grinned majestically, while his teacher turned 
his head to control his risibles. 

"Make pleasant?" the redskin grunted, and shook his 
head disapprovingly. Me-tah-ah-qua say no dog good 
— old — make tough soup." And the brave pinched one 

201 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

of the mongrels, causing such a ky-eying that my inter- 
preter feared it would put the whole camp on the war- 
path. 

Presently an Indian boy notified the teacher that the 
chief had heard of Mr. Pod's arrival, and wished him to 
dine with him at his lodge. I accepted, and the boy de- 
parted; and soon afterward Coonskin and I were escort- 
ed to the chief's wigwam, taking my dog pack with me. 

Me-tah-ah-qua met us with a grunt, rubbed my nose 
against his until it became lopsided, and likewise greeted 
Coonskin. 

Then the chief waved us into the wigwam. He seated 
me on his right, and Coonskin on his left, while opposite 
to me he placed his disenchanting daughter of forty-five 
summers. Opposite the chief sat his first councilman, 
Muck-qua-push-e-too (young one), and at my right, at 
the entrance of the tent in full view of the host was seated 
our Government interpreter, seemingly much amused by 
the event. I lost no time in presenting my dogs to the 
chief, who in broken sentences, half Indian, half English, 
accepted the munificent gift in befitting words. 

The spread consisted of a wolf skin, and on it rested a 
large flat stone on which to stand the kettle of soup when 
ready. 

For some moments the chief regarded me searchingly, 
then said, "Me-tah-ah-qua wants — big donk man to live 
with him — and marry — his only daughter — Ne-nah-too- 
too. Me-tah-ah-qua will give — him a bow and a quiver 
of arrows — three seasoned pipes — five ponies — a new 
wicky-up — two red blankets — a deer skin — bag full of 
dogs' teeth — fifteen scalps taken by his father." 

The chief left off abruptly, as if for my answer, but I 
shook my head thoughtfully, and the chief continued: 

**If you — will marry my daughter (here the chief 

202 



POD UNDER ARREST. 

glanced at me, then let his eyes dwell fondly on that aged 
belle of forty-five summers), Me-tah-ah-qua will make — 
you chief of his tribe — before he goes to — the Happy 
Hunting Grounds. He will call — your first born Chicky- 
pow-wow-wake-up." 

I was never more embarrassed, and eyed the damsel of 
forty-five summers, trying to persuade myself that she 
was beautiful and rich, and still shook my head. The 
old chief, seeing his inducements were not alluring, mo- 
tioned to his councilman to pass the pipe of peace. After 
we had all taken a puff at it, the kettle of dog soup was 
set before us, and we all dipped in our ladles, the chief 
first, and began to eat. 

When I first looked into that caldron of bouillon, I 
could see in my mind's eye, all kinds and conditions of 
dog staring at me, and almost fancied I could hear them 
barking. The soup wasn't bad, after all; it reminded 
me of Limburger cheese, in that it tasted better than it 
smelled. But Coonskin and I, and even our interpreter, 
ate sparingly (I use the word "ate," because there was so 
much meat in it). I learned from the teacher that the 
whole kettleful of soup was extracted from one small 
spaniel. *'Dog gone!" I sighed. 

The feast at an end, I thanked the chief for the honor 
conferred upon me, shook hands with his daughter, and 
departed. Barley Korker, Mac A'Rony and the rest of 
the party welcomed me with glee, and soon we were 
marching over the hill toward the house of the Indian 
farmer. 

In front of a wigwam sat the chief's squaw, an old, 
wrinkled and parched woman of a hundred and five win- 
ters, weaving a flat mat; a little way off two Indian boys 
were filling pails with sand, making believe they were at 
Coney Island; and still beyond I saw two squaws carry- 

203 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

ing huge bundles of faggots for the wigwam fires, round 
which sat the lazy bucks, smoking. 

A half-mile further on we met the Indian Farmer, and 
I presented my letter of introduction. He extended me 
a glad hand, and invited us all to supper, and on the way 
to his house, enlightened me about Indian farming, and 
the results of our Government's efiforts to civilize the 
savage tribes. The Reservation contains 2,800 acres of 
woodland and arable soil. 

After supper on bread and milk with the farmer, we 
travelers made our beds of hay and horse-blankets in the 
barn, and then followed the trail half way back to the 
Indian village, until we came to a house, where I dis- 
covered in the darkness its rustic incumbent leaning on 
the fence, smoking. There we lay down on the dry sod, 
lit our pipes, and listened for the first sound of the Indian 
drum beats which, the farmer told us, we would soon 
hear; that was the night for an Assembly dance, and the 
first drum beat was to assemble the tribe to its nocturnal 
orgie. 

As I reclined on the grass in the starlight that mild 
May evening, my mind recalling the harrowing tales of 
the early settlers of the West, the first sound of the drum 
beat sent a thrill through my frame. I mentally counted 
the weapons comprising the arsenal in our belts; and 
even Don crept closer to me and rubbed his face against 
mine. After a few moments' interim the drum again 
beat, but for a longer period, sounding something like 
the army long-roll, only more weird. The farmer said 
this was the signal for the dance to begin, so we strolled 
leisurely down the hill trail, through the woods to the 
grotesque scene. 

A circular corral, fenced with three or four strands of 
wire, surrounded a pole driven slantingly in the ground, 

204 



POD UNDER ARREST. 

and from the pole was suspended a very bright lantern. 
Already within the enclosure could be seen the dusky 
forms of the Musquaques, some of them grouped in a 
sitting posture, crosslegged, in the center of the corral, 
beating a large shallow drum resting on the ground; 
while maneuvring fantastically about them were four 
agile reds, clad in loose-fitting, bright-colored robes, 
feathers, moccasins and sleighbells, dancing, and pow- 
wowing frightfully. 

Finally we drew closer to the scene, and then an edu- 
cated Indian, named Sam Lincoln, welcomed us into the 
enclosure. He said he was a graduate of the Carlisle 
Indian School of Pennsylvania, and greeted us in the 
true American style, but he still loved the primitive cus- 
toms of his people. We sat on the ground against the 
fence, and occasionally one or another of the dancers 
would put a pinch of tobacco into the hand of Sam, 
seated next to me. 

''What was that he just gave you?" I asked of the 
Indian. 

''He give pleasant of tobacco," said Sam. "Show 
good feeling — Indian not steal — leave things around — 
Indian no take — Indian honest." By that sign of distrib- 
uting tobacco among his fellows, the tamed savage 
promises fair play among his tribe. 

The men alone danced. Before long, the squaws, one 
by one, came into the ring from various quarters with 
pappooses bound on their backs in shawls or robes, and 
squatted in a circle just behind the drummers. As the 
dancers became fatigued, I noticed that they would ex- 
change places with the spectators, most of whom were 
in dancing rig. Sam Lincoln, after a time, excused him- 
self politely and asked me to sit on his coat, reminding 

205 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

me should I leave before his return not to forget to leave 
the strap he loaned me to tie my dog to a post. 

The weird proceedings were all too exciting for Don, 
and it was all I could do to prevent his making mince- 
meat out of the dancers and prowling squaws. The 
whoops and pow-wowing and yells were thrilling enough 
to frighten even a man ''tenderfoot." 

Toward midnight speech-making began. The drum- 
mers stopped beating the drum, and an old patriarch 
walked from the fence toward the center group, and 
stood behind the squaws a moment in silence. Presently 
he softly uttered something that sounded like a prayer, 
to which all the dusky auditors responded feelingly at 
the close in a monosyllable not unlike "Amen." Then 
the drum-beating and dancing was resumed, continuing 
some moments, to be followed by another prayer. 

At last, a great pipe was put through a series of mys- 
terious calisthenics, and passed around among the drum- 
mers. 

At midnight the full, round moon rose above the 
wooded hills, and cast a broad, silvery sash across the 
ring, illuminating the weird and grotesque scene. Now 
a squaw entered with a large earthen jar and passed it 
around to all the Indians, the bucks first. I was igno- 
rant of its contents, as it was not passed to me and my 
v/hite comrades. Fatigued from travel, I finally rested 
my head on Don's warm body, and went to sleep; and it 
must have been near one o'clock when Coonskin awoke 
me. Then we three, accompanied by my dog, started 
for the barn to lay ourselves out for a few hours' repose. 
I shall never forget that night. 

Sam Lincoln said that several members of the tribe, a 
few weeks previous, had gone to visit another branch of 
the tribe in Wisconsin, in the absence of which a "meet- 

206 



POD UNDER ARREST. 

ing dance" was held every fourth night, when the Indians 
appealed to the Great Father for their safe return. Sam 
told me that in all their various dances a different drum 
was beaten — there was one each respectively for the 
snake dance, ghost dance, wolf dance, buffalo dance, 
peace dance, war dance, meeting dance, etc. The drum 
for the meeting dance, Sam pronounced beautiful, and 
''much nice" — "seven dollars fifty cents worth of quar- 
ters on it — all silver on drum — fine drum — much cost." 
The Indians valued their drums, evidently, more than 
any other of their possessions. 

We rested well that night in our haymow bed, al- 
though the rats kept the dog busy till morning, so Barley 
said; he was the only one of us three who failed to sleep 
soundly. We rose in good season, and traveled five 
miles to Mountour, Barley Korker wheeling on in ad- 
vance to order breakfast. He proved himself a good 
financier on this, his first, mission as Pod's official cou- 
rier, and pleasantly surprised me by having bargained 
for three twenty-five cent breakfasts for fifty cents. 

Before reaching Marshalltown, we met with a terrific 
thunderstorm, and rode up to the hotel at six o'clock in 
a drenched condition. 



207 



" CHAPTER XXVII. 

BY MAC a'rONY. 

What the devil was the good of a she-ass, if she couldn't carry 
a sleeping bag and a few necessities ? — Stevenson. 

Our sojourn in Marshalltown was brief. Before leav- 
ing, my master purchased cooking utensils, so that he 
would not be compelled to travel more than he ought to 
in a day to reach a town; now he could cook his own 
meals. After going into camp the first night, Pod 
fetched out the cooking tools, and having saved up a 
huge appetite, went to work to get a fine supper. 

"Hello! Coonskin," said he, "what do you think? 
We've plenty of frying pans, but nothing to fry — never 
once thought of buying grub." And three more disap- 
pointed, famished individuals I never saw. But when to 
get even they ate double their usual breakfast next morn- 
ing and were charged accordingly, Pod was enraged. 

We trailed through State Center, Nevada, and Ames 
to Boone, arriving at midnight. May 22d; and continued 
on next day to Grand Junction, where a farmer invited 
the men to sleep in his kitchen. Instead of accepting, 
they shared with us donks the comforts of the barn, 
where, after a supper, cooked at a safe distance from the 
hay-stack. Pod received a delegation of gay young chaps 
from town. They brought all kinds of prohibition 
drinks and eatables; the popping of corks kept me awake 
until a late hour. And when I complained, all I got was 
an invoice of corn on the ear. 

208 



ADVENTURE IN A SLEEPING-BAG. 

The Mayor of Jefferson, during our stop, presented 
Pod with a heavy shillalah that was intended as an orna- 
ment, but several times later, persuaded to do business. 
The Irishman, also, as a compliment to my ancestry, in- 
vited us all to dinner. After passing through Scranton 
and Glidden, two or three interesting incidents occurred 
on the road to Carroll. One night we were caught in a 
shower that seemed to settle down to business for the 
night. Coonskin thought he saw a barn in a meadow, 
so Pod sent him to investigate. He came back soon 
and said it was only a double corn-crib, built so a wagon 
could drive between, under a roof. All three thought it 
was just the thing; it was better than tramping through 
rain and mud. So we broke through the fence, and soon 
were unpacked and fed all the corn we could eat. The 
men made their bed in one of the big cribs of corn, the 
best they could with their scant blankets, and went to 
sleep. Pod told me that wasn't the first night he had 
spent in a crib. And I shouldn't wonder if that were 
so. I said I preferred corn on the ear to corn on the feet. 

It was a funny sight before the men arose. There 
happened to be several holes in the inner wall, and the 
men had twisted and turned about so much during the 
night in their dreams and to get the ears comfortably 
filled into their backs, that it resulted in Pod's head stick- 
ing out of one hole, Coonskin's foot out of another, and 
Barley's seat plugging another. When Pod awoke, his 
head was red as a beet; he found his feet higher than his 
head, Damfino having pulled the corn out of the hole 
during the night. So much did we donks eat that, before 
starting on the day's journey, our stomachs ached and 
doubled us all up. 

Then a ridiculous sort of runaway happened. A fat 
Irishwoman tried to drive a gentle horse past our party. 

209 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

The pet stuck up his ears and stopped a hundred feet 
away; Pod called to the courageous driver to wait, and 
that he would send his man to lead the horse past us. 
But the woman yelled back that she could manage her 
own horse; so she whipped him on. To the left was a 
marsh deep from the heavy rains; and the frightened 
horse made a dash through it, but he hadn't run far 
before he stuck knee-deep, right beside us. The horse 
snorted and plunged, and tried to get away, but it was 
no "go." He burst the traces, and the frantic driver 
hollered so that I almost ''busted" too. 

"Don't move your feet an inch, or you'll go over," Pod 
cautioned the woman, but she took it as a personal 
ofifense, and said her feet were all right. 

''Help me and Oi'll pay yez !" she implored. 

So Coonskin waded in and, tying the reins around the 
broken traces, led the horse on to dry land at a safe dis- 
tance. Then he held out a hand for his pay. 

"Phwat do yez want, ye poppinjay?" said the ingrate. 

"You promised to pay me if I would help you," replied 
the valet, soberly. 

"Ah, gwan, yez crazy loot!" she exclaimed. "Dish- 
pose of thim hathenish jackasses, ond yez will have 
money ond th' rishpect of the community." 

Coonskin was watersoaked up to his waist. But be- 
fore he could get tO' a hotel to change his clothes, our 
little courier met us coming into town, and inquired, 
"Hev yuse been havin' a fallin' out wid de crazy mule?" 

"Not by a blank sight," retorted the valet, in ill humor. 
He felt like scaring Barley, and he did. "Two women 
met us down the road a way driving a fractious horse — 
horse got frightened at donks — ran away — upset wagon 
— both women killed — expect sheriff and posse after us 

210 



ADVENTURE IN A SLEEPING-BAG. 

with shot guns. You weren't in the muss and are safe. 
Here's my mother's address." 

To say the fellow was scared half to death doesn't 
express it. It was his business to gather information 
and pace our party out of every town on the best road 
to the next. On this occasion he took us out on the 
longest road to Carroll, saying he had paced us on that 
road to elude pursuit. 

"Dey's method in my madness, Mr. Pod," said the 
excited fellow, leaping off his wheeel, to better explain 
matters. "If de whole blamed country's after yuse, do 
yuse tink I was goin' to let yuse be catched if I could 
help it? We sticks togedder, we do, tru t'ick an' thin, 
an' when de sheriff t'inks he is cliasin' yuse one way, 
we's chasin' ourselves de udder way, see?" And our 
courier looked heroic. Pod said he was grateful, and 
slyly winked to Coonskin, who turned his head and 
grinned. 

At Carroll, Pod purchased some canvas for a sleeping- 
bag. He said he was tired of sleeping in barns and corn- 
cribs and such, and if he had a bed of his own, he would 
be independent. Barley sewed up the canvas for him, 
to save expense, and we left town with the patent bed. 

Of course, the men were anxious to put the thing into 
service. About nine o'clock, the three crawled in and 
soon went to sleep. The bagful of humanity rested on 
the sloping roadside where the grass was thick, their 
heads being at the higher end, their feet at the lower. 

We donks were up bright and early the next morning 
eating thistles, when, suddenly, I heard Miss Damfino 
giggling. She nodded toward the sleeping-bag, and I 
saw a funny sight. The seam at the foot of the bag had 
been ripped by the weight of the three bodies sliding 
down against it,, and now six legs were sticking out 

211 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

clear up to the knees, the feet turned skyward in all 
directions. In a lumber wagon opposite, a farmer sat 
taking in the curious sight with a phiz that would make a 
monkey laugh. One couldn't tell who or what was in 
that bag, except for human legs. Miss Damfino was so 
convulsed with merriment she just lay down and rolled. 

Now it happened that Cheese V was a droll wag, and 
chock full of innocent mischief, so as soon as his eyes 
lighted on that row of awkward-looking feet, he quietly 
strolled over to the sleeping-bag and commenced to lick 
the bare soles of those sensitive pedals. In a minute the 
peaceful bed looked as if hit by a cyclone. Such yells, 
I had never before heard. The men's heads were down 
so far in the bag that the terrified fellows didn't know 
which end to crawl out of first, so tried both ends at 
once; and, slap bang me! if that bag full of live things 
didn't begin rolling and hopping about the highway like 
a sackful of oats. One could have heard the hollaring 
a mile off. I laughed so hard I thought I'd die, and 
Cheese, Damfino and Don were weak from the strain 
of their risibles long afterward. The farmer almost 
rolled off the seat, but finally he pacified his excited 
horse, got down, and caught the animated beg before it 
jumped the fence, ripped it open, and pulled out the 
dazed men. For the life of me, I thought at one time 
the bag would reach the creek across the field, and 
drown the men. Cheese escaped detection for his prac- 
tical joke, and I, from the way Pod leered at me all day, 
knew that I got all the blame. 



212 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

BY PYE POD. 

If I know'd a donkey wot wouldn't go 
To see Mrs. Jarley's wax-work show, 
Do you think I'd wollop him? 

Oh, no, no ! Then run to Jarley's 

— Old Curiosity Shop. 

Dennison was still and peaceful when, at nine in the 
evening, we trailed up to its leading hotel, after a long 
and tiresome day's walk, for, to relieve Cheese and Mac 
A'Rony, Coonskin and I had journeyed half the dis- 
tance on foot. But we left next day in good season for 
Arion, taking it slowly, as Cheese was noticeably lame; 
he had stumbled in the darkness the evening before. At 
Arion, so aggravated was his injury, that I tarried a 
whole day, for I appraised him a valued animal. 

When I resumed the pilgrimage, I took it slowly, and 
relieved the animal from any burden more than his sad- 
dle. Coonskin and I took turns riding Mac, who was as 
chipper and strong as ever. He gloried in his health and 
vigor, and found amusement in chaffing his unfortunate 
comrade. 

The eve of May thirtieth was spent in camp a few 
miles from Woodbine. The following morning, when 
we were still two miles from town, my courier, who had 
preceded us, wheeled back in company with an old, white- 
haired man leading three white Esquimaux dogs. The 
stranger managed his sportive pets with one hand, and 

213 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

carried a basket of apples in the other; and, introducing 
himself and shaking hands, he presented me with the 
delicious russet fruit, and welcomed me to his home in 
the distance as his guest for the holiday, a pleasure I 
was compelled to deny myself, for lack of time. 

According to his own account, he was a hermit and 
lived in the society of his canine companions, as he had 
the greater part of his seventy-five years. Content to 
subsist on the product of his little thirty-six acre farm, 
he denied himself the use of any portion of a small for- 
tune of $15,000 in gold which, he claimed, he had buried 
somewhere outside of that state ; nobody had ever helped 
him to a cent, and he resolved that no one should enjoy a 
dollar of his money. 

I put up at the Columbia Hotel, Woodbine, a pretty 
brick hostelry, and, after an enjoyable lounge in the par- 
lor, we all went out to see the military and civic parade, 
in keeping with the usual Memorial day custom. 

The band assembled from all quarters and kinds of 
quarters — doors, windows, cellars, barns, corn-cribs, 
hay-stacks, hencoops, smoke-houses, etc., and without de- 
lay began tuning instruments. Their uniforms chal- 
lenged imitation. No two were dressed alike. Every 
horn was different; they tried to outvoice each other, 
when, suddenly, the bass drum banged away and upset 
the equilibrium of the horns, until the snare drums and 
cymbals interfered as peacemakers. At last, after much 
strain of nerve tissue, the medley of musical tools settled 
down to a good, sensible patriotic tune, which held sway 
for fifteen minutes. 

But the procession that followed the band beggared 
description. The band acted as leaders, the Grand Army 
followed as pointers, then trailed the wheelers — carriages 
filled with citizens and farmers. There were democrat 

214 



A MAYOR RIDES MAC A'RONY. 

wagons, side-bar buggies, buckboards, carts, gigs, sur- 
reys, hayricks, baby carriages, wheelbarrows, goat carts, 
and velocipedes. Pedestrians then fell into line, and 
brought up the rear. To cap the climax, a big, fat man 
with inflated chest galloped past on a faded, wind-broken 
horse, and exhorted the excitable celebrators to strictly 
obey orders. "Remember, citizens," he yelled, " let us 
take care not to have any accident to-day, for we are not 
used to 'em here! " The procession had begun slowly 
to move forward, when suddenly the command was given 
to halt, and the bangity-bang, clapity-clap, rip-slap of 
wagon tongue against wagon boxes sounded like freight 
cars when the engine clamps on the brakes. 

The firearms carried looked as if they had been loaned 
by some museum for the event. They were muskets, 
match-locks, flint-locks, and minus-locks; Winchesters, 
Remingtons, Ballards, Floberts, Sharps, Springfields; 
shot-guns, muzzle-loaders and breach-loaders ; blunder- 
busses ; carbines, bean-shooters, sling-shots and cross- 
guns — a most formidable looking arsenal. Such a 
pageant ! 

When the procession arrived at the cemetery, the 
hearse, filled with flowers, stopped in front of a newly 
made grave. Then the undertaker in black clothes and 
red cap, seated beside the driver in blue coat, white 
trousers and stovepipe hat, banged a bass drum in his 
lap with an Indian club, as each floral piece was placed 
on the several soldiers' graves. 

Presently my attention was directed to a new excava- 
tion, before which solemnly stood Coonskin, as immov- 
able and statuesque as a marble slab; and soon I ob- 
served an aged woman approach, bend toward the human 
statue, and read the pathetic epitaph on his back: "Take 
Blank's cathartic pills and keep healthy." 

215 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"Poor boy!" she exclaimed, sorrowfully, a pity to have 
died so young." 

That was too much for Coonskin, who instantly re- 
sumed consciousness, and wheeled about, as the fright- 
ened mourner gasped, "Bless my stars, alive!" When 
Mac took in the situation he brayed with merriment, 
almost shaking me out of the saddle. 

The interesting proceedings concluded with a volley 
fired over a grave, and at once bird shot, buck shot, salt 
pork, hickory nuts, marbles, acorns, beans, and pebbles 
rained about us frightfully. When the firing was 
through, I assisted a quack doctor probe for a number 
one duck shot in Barley's shoulder and an acorn in Coon- 
skin's leg. As I mounted my terrified donkey, I noticed 
the old woman had fainted. Bending over her was a 
gallant fellow countryman trying to fan her back to life 
with his broad-brimmed hat, while exposing patched 
trousers to an admiring crowd. As soon as she came 
to, we started for the hotel, congratulating ourselves on 
our narrow escape. 

Next day we set out for Logan. Our arrival was sig- 
naled by an assembly of townspeople, headed by their 
Mayor, who greeted me cordially and asked to ride the 
celebrated donkey. He rode Mac up and down the cen- 
tral street before the cheering throng, as had the Mayors 
of other towns we had visited. Then I delivered a lec- 
ture on my travels, on a corner of the business street, 
after which Coonskin, who had lately received his banjo- 
guitar from home, accompanied me with my mandolin, 
recently purchased, as we gave a short serenade of music 
and song that made everybody sad and wish we would 
depart. 

The morrow was the first of June; I welcomed sum- 
mer joyfully. Missouri Valley was reached in the after- 

216 



A MAYOR RIDES MAC A'RONY. 

noon, and there, with my dog chained in the cellar of a 
hotel and the three donkeys stabled, we men retired and 
slept the sleep of the just. 

The further I journeyed, the more primitive and 
squatty were both dwelHng and store in small places, and 
the architecture reached the superlative of simplicity on 
the plains; but I observed more of a passion for flower 
gardens and shrubbery evinced west of the Mississippi 
than east. 

The great blufifs characterizing the banks of the Mis- 
souri now loomed up, verdant and picturesque, after the 
genial showers and sunshine of spring. Every turn in 
the road presented a different kaleidoscopic effect to the 
landscape. Wild roses lined the roadside as we passed 
in review with our hats trimmed with blossoms, and 
songbirds caroled sweet melodies from early morn till 
eventide. Pure springs and wells were ever within reach, 
and the farmers treated us to brimming bowls of sweet 
milk and buttermilk. One day, after imbibing freely 
from a barrel of buttermilk, standing against the porch, 
where I was chatting with the housewife, I was aston- 
ished to see a calf walk up to the barrel and drink. After 
that I lost my appetite for buttermilk. 

All through Iowa were droves or bunches of white- 
faced cattle, the predominating breed. I was told that 
the white-faced cattle make the best beef, which seemed 
to sustain the theory early advanced by the Indians, that 
pale-faces made the best roasts. 

During the last few days, I noted a happy change in 
Damfino's demeanor, and a marked improvement in 
Cheese's tender feet. Damfino traveled faster and more 
smoothly, her long ears swinging back and forth with 
every stride like pendulums of a clock and apparently 
assisting her to walk to regular time. 

217 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Just as we were trailing out of Crescent City, a woman 
presented me with a large bouquet of flowers. 

I had intended to travel ten miles that lovely June 
night, but when some five miles from town, on observ- 
ing an inviting grassy lot, I decided to go into camp. 
We let our donkeys roam at will and graze, and spread 
our sleeping-bag under an apple-tree; then, with Don 
on guard and with the gleaming stars beaming on us 
through the boughs, we enjoyed a delightful sleep. At 
dawn we were awakened by the owner of the property, 
a short, crabbed individual, who lifted a dirty face above 
the top fence-rail and called, "Git out," to us. 

I was awfully sleepy and dozed on luxuriously. After 
a while he again hailed us, now from the opposite quar- 
ter, but still on the outside of the enclosure, where I 
could see him eyeing disapprovingly my huge dog. 
Fnally we induced him to come into our camp, on the 
promise that our dog wouldn't molest him, and even 
invited him to breakfast with us. When we departed he 
was in good spirits. He said he lived "over in that 
house yonder all alone," because he couldn't afiford to 
live "together." Of course, we understood. He in- 
formed me that we were following the old Mormon trail 
to Council Bluffs, where Mormonism and bigamy flour- 
ished for a season before the historic band of pilgrims 
crossed the Missouri in 1848. Thursday, June third, my 
donkeys ambled into Council Bluffs. 



218 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



He was mounted upon a mule, which he rode gineta fashion, 
and behind him, by the duke's order, was led his Dapple, adorned 
with shining trappings of silk, which so delighted Sancho that 
every now and then he turned his head to look upon him, and 
thought himself so happy that he would not have exchanged 
conditions with the Emperor of Germany. — Don Quixote. 

The city of Council Bluffs is four miles from the Mis- 
souri River, and takes its name as many people do, from 
both sides of the house. Council comes from the old 
Mormon councils formerly held there, and Bluffs is bor- 
rowed from the bluffs on which the city is built. 

Often such things are handed down for many genera- 
tions ; the Mayor seemed to be constructed on the bluff 
order.. He had the consummate cheek to tell my master 
he wasn't allowed to sell photographs without procuring 
a license, and thought he had squelched him, but he al- 
most fell out of his chair when Pod nonchalantly pulled 
out a fifty dollar bill and said, "Just make out a license 
at once." Then he went to work and did a land-office 
business, taking more money out of the town than the 
Mayor could put into it in a year's time. 

Next morning Miss Damfino went shopping, coming 
back with a brand new pair of shoes. She said she saw 
lots of donkeys shopping, and began to distribute to a 
stableful of equine and asinine gossips such a lot of scan- 
dal that I was ashamed of her. She had also discov- 

219 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

ered the startling fact that there was on« more river to 
cross. "Furthermore," said she, "our highfaluting, aris- 
tocratic, Hterary genius, Mac A'Rony, is to enjoy the dis- 
tinction of crossing the great Missouri River Bridge in a 
wheelbarrow." This caiised me to collapse. I fell on 
my knees and preyed on the bed of yellow straw, and 
brayed aloud for spirituous support, but all I got was a 
bucket of water. An hour afterward I was saddled for 
the show. I had experienced riding in a wheelbarrow be- 
fore, and did not like the idea, but said nothing. 

Sure enough, when we arrived at the bridge, there 
stood a wheelbarrow, just brought by a wagon from the 
Bluffs. I eyed the vehicle disdainfully. That was the 
same kind of carriage that a man once went to London 
with to fetch a wife home in, and now, as a fitting jubilee 
memorial of that historic event, I, a respectable scion of 
an ancient race, was to be toted across a bridge into a 
great city in this outlandish vehicle, to the cheers and 
jeers of a multitude. The event was heralded in the 
morning papers of both Council Bluffs and Omaha ; I saw 
Pod reading about it on the way. 

At the bridge, I was at once unsaddled, and my luggage 
distributed equally between Cheese and Damfino. The 
quilts and blankets were folded in the wheelbarrow, and 
with the help of two men Pod and Coonskin lifted me into 
the one-wheeled carriage, where I was strapped and roped 
so securely I couldn't budge without upsetting. Pod 
wheeled me a short way first, then Coonskin relieved him ; 
in this way I crossed that bridge of size. When half 
way, I thought I would be easier if I turned over, for it 
was an awful long bridge; in a minute I was on the 
bridge proper, the wheelbarrow on the top of me, im- 
proper. Wasn't Pod mad though ! A street-car line 
crossed the bridge, and cars full of curious passengers 

220 



ACROSS THE MISSOURI IN WHEELBARROW. 

were passing continually, having paid extra, I reckoned, to 
see the circus. I had to be untied, and again deposited 
in the wheelbarrow, and do you believe, those human 
jackasses didn't have sense enough to lay me on my other 
side. Then another distressing circumstance happened 
soon after. I could see the street at the Omaha terminus 
jammed with people as on a Fourth of July, but that 
didn't matter; a horse-fly buzzed around me a minute 
prospecting, and suddenly made his camp-fire on my lett 
hip. Soon the fire burned like fury, and I not able to 
stand it, made one super-asinine effort, ripped and tore, 
and upset myself and Pod, who was wheeling me. Then 
the crowd cheered louder than ever. Some boy with a 
large voice yelled, "Hurrah for Mac A'Rony !" and three 
cheers were given. 

'T think he'll walk the rest of the way, "Coonskin," 
said Pod, referring to me. "Save us the trouble of fixing 
him in the wheelbarrow again." 

Thinks I, Pll just get even with the Professor at once, 
and I lay down as if I were in a barnyard for the night. 
It didn't take those men long to put me in the wheelbar- 
row again, I tell you. This time Pod didn't seem to care 
whether I was all in or not. My tail caught in the spokes 
of the wheel, and wound up so quickly that I was nearly 
pulled out on the bridge. The wheelbarrow came to such 
a sudden stop that Pod fell all over me. At first I 
thought I had lost my tail by the roots. It was sore long 
after. Couldn't switch off flies with it, and had to kick 
at them, and ten times out of nine I'd miss the fly and 
kick my long-legged rider in the leg or foot, whereupon 
I would catch it with whip and spur. 

At length we crossed the bridge, and there I was 
dumped; then I had a good roll in the dust, just to show 

221 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

there was no hard feeling; after which a host of in- 
quisitive spectators followed us to the Paxton Hotel in 
Omaha, where we were to have a two days' rest. 

Good fortune began to fall before us now like manna 
from the sky. The first morsel came in the manner of a 
proposition for Pod and me to pose in front of a leading 
apothecary's shop in the business center, and extol the vir- 
tues of fruit frappe, and incidentally his perfumed soaps, 
insect powders, and dog-biscuits, in consideration of 
several dollars in silver. The frappe clause of the con- 
tract was most agreeably cool and delectable for that sum- 
mer season, and the sample doses of the various ices to 
which Cheese and I, not to mention Pod, were treated, 
furnished rare sport for an appreciative audience. The 
cheerful proprietor, recognizing my blue blood, attempted 
to feed me with a long, silver spoon ; I so admired the 
spoon that with my teeth I stamped it with our family 
crest. 

As the demand for frappe increased, the brass-but- 
toned society began to gather from the four points of the 
compass, and finally attempted to arrest Pod for block- 
ing the thoroughfare; and, but for the timely arrival of 
the druggist, there would have been a riot. Coonskin 
had two guns in his belt, and Pod declared he would not 
be taken alive. 

On this occasion, besides the money received from the 
druggist, Coonskin sold many chromos, for the wily Pro- 
fessor was far-seeing enough to work in considerable non- 
sense about his travels, and got even the police so inter- 
ested that several cops wedged through the gang and 
purchased souvenirs. We made a pretty fair street show. 
All were there but Miss Damfino, who felt indisposed 
and remained indoors. 

222 



ACROSS THE MISSOURI IN WHEELBARROW 

One of our severest crosses (some folks think the ass 
has only one cross, and that on its shoulders), was ex- 
perienced a few miles southwest of the city, where we 
donks refused to walk a narrow plank over a shattered 
bridge, and were forced to ford the stream. 



2J3 



CHAPTER XXX. 

BY PYE POD. 

We may live without poetry, music and art ; 
We may live without conscience, and live without heart; 
We may live without friends ; we may live without books ; 
But civilized man cannot live without cooks. — Lucile. 

It was my good fortune to obtain in Omaha a most 
adaptable teepee tent, a triangular canvas bag, as it 
were. One man could put it up in a minute. This 
waterproof tent had a canvas floor stoutly sewn to the 
sides, and when the door was tied shut neither sand, 
water, nor reptile could invade its sacred precincts; mos- 
quito netting across the two smaal windows kept out all 
kinds of insects. Three could sleep in it comfortably, 
besides allowing ample room for luggage and supplies; 
and the tent with its folding poles only weighed thirty 
pounds. This extra baggage was added to Damfino's 
pack, for she was large and strong, and by this time in 
good traveling fettle. 

I could now thoroughly enjoy the outdoor life of the 
West, with its fresh and fragrant air; after sleeping a 
few nights under the stars, only some imperative emer- 
gency could induce me to spend a night indoors. Al- 
though my two attendants were not companions of 
choice they were fairly good company, but my courier 
unconsciously furnished entertainment for Coonskin and 
myself. He had such an absurd dialect — he said he had 
learned it in an eastern factory where Irish, Germans, 

224 



POD IN INSANE ASYLUM. 

and Swedes, and other nationalities were employed — and 
his gullibility was a constant challenge for practical 
jokes. 

One day at supper, an idea of putting up a game on 
Barley came to mind. 

"It's a pity we haven't blue beetle sauce for our quail, 
Coonskin," I said, giving my valet a sly wink, and he, 
suspecting I had some joke in mind, took up the argu- 
ment. 

"You bet," was his response. "Seen hundreds of bee- 
tles to-day." 

Barley eyed Coonskin, then me, and satisfied that we 
were serious, queried, "Do yuse mean wese kin make 
sauce of de blue beetles what wese see in de road?" 

"Why," I said, as with astonishment, "haven't you 
ever heard of it before? Man, they pay a steep price for 
blue beetles at Delmonico's. Only the wealthy enjoy 
such a luxury." 

"The dandiest stuff I ever et on broiled birds of any 
kind," seconded my valet cleverly. The repast over, my 
courier was convinced of the surpassing virtues of blue- 
beetle sauce. 

Next day the bettles came out thicker than ever. With 
enthusiasm, I dismounted, and began to fill my emptied 
purse with the insects, and Coonskin followed suit by 
filling a handkerchief, exclaiming: "By the very old 
Ned! Gather 'em all; we'll have a treat for the gods." 

Up to this, Barley kept on his wheel within talking 
distance, but now he leaped ofif and made a dive in the 
dust with his hat, as if he had trapped a butterfly. "Re- 
member, man," I called to him, "there should be seven- 
teen in every family; bag every one of them." 

"Here's fourteen Ise got, guess dey's one family, but 
can't see no more; besides my handkerchief's full. Has 

225 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

yus got a sock yuse kin lend me?" I said I had, and 
then he came to get the sock. His trousers pockets 
were filled with the strong smelling beetles. 

Suddenly, he dived for a whole entomological tribe 
almost under Mac's feet; had the donkey not leaped over 
him, we all would have been hurt. 

We lunched in a small village where I purchased pep- 
permint oil for flavoring the sauce. That night, I made 
a concoction that would only satisfy a Siwash appetite. 
We had bagged two dozen quail and doves, so we had 
plenty of game, and an abundance of beetles; the next 
thing in order was a heap of fun. 

After frying our potatoes, gun oil, peppermint oil, pink 
tooth-powder, butter milk, lemon juice, and beetles were 
stirred in the frying pan, and when it began to sizzle and 
steam. Barley was put in charge and cautioned to keep 
stirring it. I thought, when he looked at the repelling 
mess and inhaled a little of those bug aromas, he would 
smell the joke, but he didn't. He kept on stirring, and 
smacked his lips, and finally said that it looked done. I 
decided to bring the joke to an end. Going to the fence 
ostensibly to tie more securely the donkeys, Coonskin 
loosened Damfino's rope while I seated myself at our 
table, and called, "Supper is ready." At once that grin- 
ning youth chased the freed donkey plumb into our fire, 
and so surprised was my courier that he never knew 
whether Damfino or Coonskin kicked over the pan, and 
robbed us of the rarest delicacy on record. 

I stormed about like a madman, and blamed both at- 
tendants, then went at the hot broiled birds inwardly 
delighted with the success of the joke. Barley never 
was the wiser. The following day, several times, he told 
me we were passing lots of beetles, but he wasn't going 
to spend his time catching them to be wasted. 

226 



POD IN INSANE ASYLUM. 

Something followed the game supper which more 
fully explains my courier's displeasure. By over- 
sight, one of the socks of bugs was left untied; the result 
was, beetles ran the tent all night. Barley claimed he 
found a beetle in his windpipe. Coonskin spent the 
night lighting matches and hunting the pests. I myself 
smothered a score of more in my pillow. That experi- 
ence closed my calendar for practical jokes. 

On to Lincoln was now the watchword. While still 
five or six miles from the city, a donkey and cart hove 
in sight, both gayly decorated with flags and bunting. 
The driver said he had been sent from Lincoln by a 
prominent citizen to escort me and my party into the 
city. 

Barley had been busy stirring up the populace, so 
when I rode majestically up to the leading hotel on Mac 
A'Rony, I found a crowd of representative citizens there 
to give me a befitting greeting. As soon as my don- 
keys were anchored, a- tall, fat, jovial member of the med- 
ical profession, advancing with outstretched hand, wel- 
comed me to the city. 

"Mr. Pod," said he, smiling all over, "I'm Dr. E 

and am at your service. I shall take pleasure in doing 
what I can to make your sojourn a pleasant memory." 

The first thing the Doctor did was to take me to the 
Executive Mansion. We found the Governor absent, 
but easily traced him to a local sanitarium, where my 
escort found him on a couch, wrapped in swaddling 
clothes, apparently secure from all intruders but the 
genial Doctor himself. He had just finished a Turkish 
bath, but he sent the Doctor for me at once. 

"We meet under difficulties," was his Excellency's smil- 
ing greeting. "I'm trying to knock out an attack of 
rheumatism." 

237 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"True enough," I acknowledged, extending my hand, 
"both of us are flat on our backs." 

Gov. Holcomb then wrote some hieroglyphics in my 
autograph album, and expressed the hope that I would 
not find it as hot on the desert as I did in that room. 

Our next stop was at a soda fountain. Then we vis- 
ited a leading clothier — where I procured a contract to 
direct, with Mac's assistance, the public's attention to 
alluring bargains in its show-windows. For this I re- 
ceived a five dollar note. 

My first evening in town was pleasantly spent in the 
company of Mrs. Bryan, who, on learning that I was in 
town, invited me to call. 

I remained in the last evening to rest, while Coonskin 
and Barley took a trip to Burlington Beach, a famous 
local watering place. 

"Wese taught, yuse see," said my little courier, in the 
morning, "dat it was something like Coney Island; so 
it's bein' only ten cents round trip dare, wese takes de 
trolley an' goes down. 

"Well, yuse oughter seen de place. Before wese gets 
dare it begins to smell — why, Coney Island ain't in it 
fer smells. Den wese gets ofif de cars and shuffles our 
feet across a long wooden bridge over on to a island, 
where dare was a dance hall and lots of girls of all kinds 
and canal boats, and dongolas, and drinks, and beers — 
talk of beers ! — say, wese had a tank dat high fer a 
nickel. Yuse see, de beach is on a island in a counter- 
feit lake, made of salt wells and sand, but day ain't no 
oysters, ner clams, ner crabs, day's nothin' but bad 
smells — but say, yuse oughter seen de lobsters crawlin' 
round wid dere sweethearts on dere arms! Say, dem 
peoples t'ought dey was havin' a big time. Gee, I 
wished day could see once Coney Island!" 

228 



POD IN INSANE ASYLUM. 

We had not journeyed far beyond Lincoln Park be- 
fore we approached the State Asylum for the Acute 
Insane. From the beginning of my pilgrimage, I had 
kept a sharp lookout for Insane Asylums, always passing 
them after dark, but Mac argued that the public had by 
this time found me harmless, and advised me to call. So 
I did. 

"A patient has arrived," some one called to an attend- 
ant. I was startled, but soon recovered my equilibrium, 
when I observed several doctors and nurses rush out of 
doors to a carriage at the porch. The lunatic having 
been safely deposited in one of the wards, the Superin- 
tendent then welcomed me, and persuaded me to accept 
his invitation to visit and inspect the institution. 

There was only one department that interested me. I 
had no sooner entered the kitchen than my omnivorous 
eye caught the pie-ocine stratum of a well-developed 
pie, and my curiosity led me to inquire if it were made by 
a lunatic. 

"Why, most certainly, Professor!" exclaimed the Su- 
perintendent. 'What's the matter with it?" 

"As far as appearances go, I think it's all right — 
doesn't look different from any other pie I've seen and 
eaten. Shouldn't think a crazy man could make a decent 
pie, though; did he do it all alone, without anybody 
watching him?" 

"Oh no, we employ a sane cook to supervise the cook- 
ing," explained the officer, much to my satisfaction. 
Will you have a piece?" he asked. 

Y-y-y-y-yes," I said incredulously, "if you are sure 
there is no danger of insanity being transferred to me by 
such a delectable agency." 

The head cook then butchered the great pie into quar- 
ters, and the Superintendent said, "Help yourself, boys." 

229 






ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I gathered up the juicy quarter, and saying, "My good 
sir, you have heard of dog eat dog, you shall now witness 
Pye eat pie." I proceeded to devour it. I couldn't recol- 
lect ever having eaten better pie; I was almost prompted 
to ask the cook to slaughter another, but, instead, car- 
ried the remaining quarter out to Mac A'Rony. 

When we had left the asylum, I could not help but re- 
mark the scrutiny with which each man regarded the 
other. 

At length we went into camp near a farm house, where 
we certainly acquitted ourselves in a manner to arouse 
the suspicions of any sane observer. We put our sleep- 
ing-bag on the ground outside of the tent, built a fire 
close to the tent on the windward side while a strong 
breeze was blowing, cooked creamed potatoes in the 
coffee pot, and steeped tea in the frying pan; and Coon- 
skin tied all three donkeys and the dog to a small sap- 
ling by their tails. I felt sure that insanity was breaking 
out in our party in an aggravated form, and congratu- 
lated Cheese, Damfino and Don for not having eaten 
infected pie. 

Camp Lunatic, as we called it was visited by the owner 
of the farm, a hospitable German, who had a large fam- 
ily. He gave us a generous donation of corn-cobs for 
fuel, milk, butter, fresh eggs, and water, then introduced 
his wife and children. I asked him how he came to have 
such a large family. He explained that he had a large 
farm and couldn't afford hired help, and he thought the 
best way to remedy the difficulty was to rear boys to help 
him. He looked hopeful, although he had eight girls, no 
boys. 

Supper over, the farmer conferred on me every pos- 
sible honor, even letting me hold his youngest girl, a 
child of ten months. He said, enthusiastically, he was 

230 



POD IN INSANE ASYLUM. 

going to name his boy after me; the wife smiled heroic- 
ally. 

To cap the climax, I was asked to write my name 
in the big family Bible. The book was in German. 
My host opened it to a blank page, and, without com- 
ment, I inscribed my name underneath the strangely 
printed heading — Gestorben, thus pleasing the whole 
family. 

When we reached our tent, Barley began to find fault 
with me. "What for did yuse want to write your name 
on de Gestorben page?" he asked seriously. "Dat 
means bad luck, dat does." 

"And why?" I inquired, puzzled. 

"Gestorben is German and means death, yuse crazy 
loon!" he returned. It's de lunatic pie dat's workin* al- 
ready; wese all goin' crazy." 

Next day was hot. In the afternoon my party rested 
three hours in the shade of a peach orchard, where we 
were treated to ice c'ream by the kind lady of the house 
close by. It was about 105 miles from Lincoln to Hast- 
ings, and we covered it in five days. 

Threading the villages of Exeter, Crete, Friend, and 
Dorchester, we arrived in Grafton, where I caught my 
courier in a dishonest trick, and discharged him. 

The party reached Hastings Thursday, June 17, where 
I purchased a saddle for Coonskin. Detained by a 
thunderstorm, we passed a miserable night in close quar- 
ters. Next morning, Mac pranced about like a circus 
donkey, and trailed to Kearney in a manner almost to 
wind his fellows. 

Before leaving Hastings, the Superintendent of the 
Asylum for the Chronic Insane, three miles out of town, 
telephoned me to stop and dine with him. On this oc- 

231 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

casion I rode into the asylum grounds without hesita- 
tion or nervousness. 

*'You must earn your grub, according to contract, 
Professor," said the Superintendent, when the greetings 
were over, pointing to a wood-pile in the rear of the 
building. As soon as I fairly began to comply with the 
suggestion his young lady secretary, the daughter of a 
deceased and much esteemed congressman, trained a 
camera on me and the axe and secured a picture. 

I was then notified I had more than earned my dinner, 
and was escorted into the family dining-room, where an 
enjoyable repast was accorded me, after which, some 
twenty wardens and matrons purchased photos at double 
price. Then I resumed the journey with more heartfelt 
blessings than had been expressed to me on similar oc- 
casions. 

The trail was superb. But an intensely hot spell fol- 
lowed, and made all of us perspire. Two days of hard 
travel brought us to the old Government Reservation of 
Ft. Kearney, established by Gen. Fremont on his historic 
overland trip to California in pioneer days. 

The fort has long since been abandoned. There the 
Mormons camped for a short period after leaving Coun- 
cil Bluffs. 

Next evening, I made my camp on the site of the no- 
torious Dirty Woman's Ranch of early days, and spent 
a Sunday in delightful rest and recreation in the shade of 
the grove of wide-spreading elms and cotton-woods that 
sighed mournfully over the deserted scene. 

We crossed the long, low bridge over the Platte, early 
in the morning. It required nearly an hour and all our 
wits and energies to get the donkeys across, even after 
blindfolding them. And when my party ambled into 
Kearney, that sultry, dusty June day, grimy with dirt 



'Trail through 
tlir timber." 



"He Jiad 

caught a 

nice mess. 




"Climbing Pike's 
Peak." 



POD IN INSANE ASYLUM. 

and perspiring, we all were in ripe condition for a swim. 
The little city looked to be about the size of Hastings, 
but did not show the same enterprise and thrift. In fact, 
the inhabitants ventured out in the broiling sun with an 
excusable lack of animation, and seemer to show no more 
interest in their local affairs than they did in Pye Pod's 
pilgrimage. It was here I first saw worn the Japanese 
straw helmet. It served as a most comfortable and ef- 
fective sun-shade, and purchasing a couple, we donned 
them at once. 

Kearney is said to be the half-way point, by rail, be- 
tween New York and San Francisco. My diary, how- 
ever, showed I had covered fully two thousand miles of 
my overland journey; I had consumed 227 days, with 
only one hundred and thirty-four days left me, the pros- 
pects of accomplishing the "feat" in schedule time looked 
dubious enough. 

The great Watson Ranch, when my donkey party ar- 
rived, \Yas experiencing its busiest season. But, while 
the male representatives were in the fields, the good 
matron in charge of the house made us welcome and 
treated us to cheering bowls of bread and milk. When 
Mr. Watson, Jr., arrived, he showed us about the place 
and enlightened me about alfalfa, of which he had over a 
thousand acres sown; fifty hired hands were busy har- 
vesting it. 

For a week or two we had, for the most part, been 
trailing through the perfumed prairies at an invigorating 
altitude ranging from two thousand to nearly three thou- 
sand feet, inhaling the fresh, pure air, gazing on the 
flower-carpeted earth, and enjoying a constant shifting 
of panoramic scenes of browsing herds, and bevies of 
birds, and occasional glimpses of the winding Platte 
and the sand dunes beyond. 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

The cities and villages, that formed knots in the thread 
of our travels on the plains, came into view like the in- 
coming ships from the sea. At first one spied a white 
church-steeple in the distance like a pointed stake in the 
earth only a mile away, but soon the chimneys and roofs 
and finally door-yard fences would come into view, then 
what we thought a village, nearby, proved to be, as we 
journeyed onward, a town of much greater size seven 
or eight miles beyond the point of calculation. The 
crossbars on the telegraph poles, along the straight and 
level tracks of the Union Pacific, formed in the eye's dim 
perspective a needle, as they seemed to meet with the 
rails on the horizon. Little bunches of trees, scattered 
miles apart and then overtopped by the spinning wheel 
of an air motor, indicated the site of a ranch-house where 
we might procure water. The trail ahead became lost in 
a sea of flowers and grasses. 

From time to time, as I dismounted to ease myself and 
little steed I picked from the stirrups a half dozen kinds 
of flowers, ensnared as my feet brushed through the 
grasses. Great beds of blood-red marshmallows; natural 
parterres of the wax-like blooms of the prickly pear ; 
scattering stems of the flowery thistle with white corollas 
as large as tulips; and wild roses and daisies of all shades 
and colors — the white and pink, and the white wild roses 
being the first I ever saw ; these with varicolored flowers 
of all descriptions were woven into the prairie grasses 
and likened the far-reaching plain to a great Wilton car- 
pet enrolled from the mesa to the river. 

Some of the sunsets were gorgeous. At times, the 
western sky glowed like a prairie fire; and the sunrises 
were not less magnificent. Sometimes, we were over- 
taken by severe electric storms, and obliged to pitch the 
tent in a hurry. When the lightning illuminates the 

234 



POD IN INSANE ASYLUM. 

plains at night, the trees and the distant towns are 
brought into fantastic reHef against the darkness, like the 
shifting pictures of a stereopticon. 

A flash of Hghtning to the right reveals a church or 
school-house, to the left, a bunch of cattle chewing the 
cud or grazing, ahead of us, a ranch house, and, some- 
times, to the rear, a pack of cowardly coyotes, at a safe 
distance, either following my caravan, or out on a for- 
age hunt. 

Often, as the trains swept by, the engineers would 
salute with a deafening blast of whistles, frightening the 
donkeys and entertaining the passengers. Some of the 
prairie towns which look large on the map have entirely 
disappeared. In one case, I found more dead citizens 
in the cemetery than live ones in the village. Frequently, 
as a means of diversion, I left the saddle to visit these 
white-chimney villages of the dead. Such might be con- 
sidered a grave sort of amusement, but really some of the 
gravestones .contained interesting epitaphs. In one in- 
stance the following caught my eye: 

"God saw best from us to sever 
Darling Michael, whom we love ; 
He has gone from us forever, 
To the happy realms above." 

Imagine the shock to my sobered senses on reading 
these lines cut on a white-washed wooden slab, close by: 

"Here lays Ezekiel Dolder, 

Who died from a jolt in the shoulder; 
He tried to shoot snipe 
While lighting his pipe, 

And now underneath his bones moulder." 

Just below the heartrending epitaph appeared in bold 

235 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

letters the satisfactory statement — 'This monument is 
pade fer." 

On the lonely plains, miles from habitation, a single 
grave fenced in with barbed wire in a circular corral, I 
discovered a mate to the preceding epitaph, which il- 
lustrates the utter abandon with which the rugged, dash- 
ing ''bronco buster" regards the perils of riding a buck- 
ing wild horse. 

"Here is buried my bronco, Ah Sam, 
Beside me — I don't give a damn ! 
While bucking he killed me ; 
On this spot he spilled me, 
And now the devil's I am." 

Sometime before parting with my courier, unknown 
to him we pitched camp one dark night in a graveyard. 
Barley was an early riser, and, as we know, as super- 
stitious as he was gullible. He was the first out of the 
tent at dawn. Suddenly he rushed back, exclaiming: 
"De Resurrection has came, fellows, an' wese de first 
livin' on earth agin." And with terror in his eyes and 
voice, dragged Coonskin and me to see a strange sight 
indeed. There, some forty feet from the tent, stood a 
towering crucifix with a figure of the Saviour, life size, 
looking down upon us, while about us were tablets and 
mounds: the scene was so still and solemn no wonder 
that my awestricken courier thought the world had come 
to an end. 

On the 24th of June, after a hot and dusty trail across 
an arid waste, where only occasional patches of buflfalo 
grass and cacti matted the earth in the place of the long 
prairie grass and flowers we were tramping in a few days 
before, my weary troop, jaded and hungry entered the lit- 
tle village of Overton. 

236 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

BY MAC a'rONY. 

And the ass turned out of the way, and went into the field; 
and Balaam smote the ass, to turn her into the way. — Book of 
Numbers. 

Shortly after reaching Overton, I took Pod with Coon- 
skin and Don to pay our respects to Towserville, a large 
dog town so closely situated to Overton as to inspire a 
rivalry far more serious than that existing between Min- 
neapolis and St. Paul. Overtonians complained of re- 
peated raids made by prairie dogs of Towserville on their 
chickens and gardens. On the other hand, the Towser 
'Villians" repudiated the calumny, then fled in confusion 
from the charge of shotguns and rifles. 

As our party ;approached with gims trained for a com- 
plimentary salute, I saw his honor, the Mayor, seated in 
his hallway. The roof of his mound towered above the 
other habitations, and was undoubtedly the City Hall. 
Copying after New York, each burrow in Towserville had 
a representative in the City Council. 

I'm sure we would have been welcomed cordially, had 
not Don wanted to be first to shake the Mayor's paw ; 
his honor abruptly excused himself to avoid a scene, and 
his fellow townsdogs likewise, with the result that the 
iabove dogtown population rushed in and slammed the 
doors in our faces. The Professor was embarrassed. 
He had no -visiting cards, so decided to leave at each door 
a sample box of cathartic pills ; and a careful distribution 
was made. 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Next morning as we passed Towserville, his dogcel- 
lency, the Mayor, his alderdogs and towndogs looked 
regretful of their slight to us, as each stood at his door 
or sat with his housekeeper, the owl, on the roof of his 
dwelling, nodding and waving at us. Others, however, 
were prostrate, either from remorse or Pod's mag- 
nanimity. 

Sometime about noon, we approached the shallow cur- 
rent of the Platte, where we were unpacked and fed. We 
donks were almost roasted from the sun's scorching rays. 
Close by was a deep well, but no bucket in which to draw 
water. So Coonskin hitched a syrup can to the rope and 
drew water for Pod and himself. Soon a drove of cattle, 
accompanied by two ranchmen and a boy, came down to 
the river to drink with us donks, just to show there was 
no hard feeling. The lad laid down to drink from the 
stream. 

"Here, boy, come and have a drink of cold water!" 
Pod called. "That ain't fit to drink." 

"Fitter'n that well water," answered the lad. 

Said Pod : "I'd like to know the reason." 

"Well," replied the lad, approaching, "I dropped a 
dead jackrabbit in the well a week ago." 

Somehow the men had drunk so much of that cool 
well-water they hadn't room for dinner; too cool water 
I guess aint' good for one when heated. After the dishes 
were washed. Pod took off everything but his socks and 
collar-button, and wrote his newspaper letter, while Coon- 
skin went prospecting. Pretty soon the latter returned 
with a sand turtle and, hitching it up in a rope harness, 
said he was going to keep it for a pet. He named it Bill. 
He said it would make a fine center-piece for the table; 
it would keep the Buffalo gnats and mosquitos and flies 
off the victuals, ,and if tied at the tent door no centipede 

238 



NARROW ESCAPE IN QUICKSAND. 

or tarantula would dare enter. Pod thought it a good 
scheme. So, when we packed up, Bill was put in one of 
my saddle bags, without my knowing it. All new lug- 
gage was generally tied on to Damfino; I supposed the 
turtle was. 

After going a couple miles, I felt something mysterious 
crawling on my back. I looked around, but my master 
was in the way ; so I up and kicked with all my might, de- 
termined to scatter that crawling thing to the four winds, 
but, instead, threw Pod completely over my head. Then 
I ran pell-mell down the desert trail, kicking and braying, 
with that terrible something gnawing my hair and bounc- 
ing and flopping with every jump I made. I ran fast 
and thought fast, and that thing stuck fast. Suddenly, 
I stopped, laid down, and tried to roll on it. This I 
couldn't do, on account of the saddle horn. But while I 
was still trying, the rest of the party came up, and solved 
the mystery by capturing the turtle. Bill ; then they 

« 

chained him on Damfino, and our outfit moved on peace- 
fully for several miles, the men talking merrily. Said 
Pod, "Hitting the trail on the plains in summer isn't as 
comfortable as driving a city ice-wagon. 

"Not much," Coonskin returned ; "but the donkeys and 
dog have their woes, too." 

"Verily so," confirmed the Professor. "For instance, 
there's Damfino ; she thinks she's awfully persecuted. 
Being a female, she doesn't have much to say. But how 
about Mac? Doesn't he do more kicking than all the 
rest put together?" 

"Oh, well," Coonskin answered, "you see Mac regards 
himself a pioneer and all the others mere tenderfeet." 

I couldn't help grinning at the simple debate. The 
fact of the case was, our caravan had been growing larger 
with every day's travel. New articles were continually 

239 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

added. Cheese and 1 generally carried the men ; but to our 
saddles were hung guns, revolvers, cameras, and the 
lantern, not to mention a bundle of blankets ; all of which, 
added to the burden of our thoughts, a nagging whip and 
a pair of spurs, and a million and one buffalo gnats, mas- 
todon mosquitos, and other kindergarten birds of prey, 
tended to make us lose our mental equilibrium a dozen 
times a day. In my case, there was a lump of avoir- 
dupois in the saddle ranging between 150 and 160 pounds. 
Sometimes Pod would get out of his seat and walk a 
mile or two, to relieve me. With Cheese it was much 
the same. But that old spinster, Damfino, bore a burden, 
increasing daily. She was large and strong, and couldn't 
appreciate fine sentiments, or fine stuffs either, even com- 
plaining of sand in the wind, and coughed and snorted 
continually. Her sawbuck saddle corset was laced tightly 
around her robust bust, and to this unhealthsome vesture 
were hung on both sides large canvas panniers, packed 
with canned goods, medicines, salves, ink, cow-bells, 
vegetables, ham and bacon, vinegar, old shoes, toilet arti- 
cles, including currycomb, clothes, soap, flour, salt, bak- 
ing-powder, cheese, coffee, tea, kerosine oil, matches, 
cooking tools, ammunition, folding kitchen range, and 
two dozen et ceteras. On top and lopping over the pan- 
niers were roped the tent and tent-poles, folding beds, 
canteens, musical instruments, axe, and axle-grease, five 
iron picket-pins, packages of photos (for sale), a tin wash 
basin, two tin pails, extra ropes, a half dozen paper pads, 
and a dozen more et ceteras. 

Beneath all that burden, she ambled along without a 
murmur, swinging her ears to help her outwalk the rest, 
except Don, who kept up a dog-trot. 

A ranchman gave Pod some new potatoes one day 
(half of which I yanked out of the tent door at night and 

240 



NARROW ESCAPE IN QUICKSAND. 

devoured), and in reply to his habitual inquiry, "Where'U 
we stow 'em?" Coonskin said, ''On Damfino, of course." 
When some canned goods were added to the list of poi- 
sons, my master was puzzled. "Strap 'em on Damfino," 
advised Coonskin. Pod boiight some canteens. "Where'U 
we put these?" he asked. "Oh, hang 'em on Damfino 
somewhere," said the wise "Sancho." One day a large 
package of chromos came, and the Professor was dis- 
couraged. "How the d — 1 can we carry these?" he asked 
with bewilderment. 

"Why," ejaculated the valet chuckling, "right on Dam- 
fino." Just then that silent old maid looked at the men ; 
and I saw blood in her eye. 

Picture if you can our party trailing along the banks 
of the Platte that bright June afternoon. A few miles 
away loomed the cacti-covered sand-dunes, and be- 
tween them and the river stared the desert of glistening 
alkali, sprinkled with cagti and sage, where an occasional 
steer was scratching an existence — ^and mosquito bites. 
We came to a muddy irrigation ditch, where the water 
had leaked out. Across it was an alfalfa field, and be- 
yond that an adobe ranch house. We donks thought the 
mud in the ditch was stiff; the green field looked tempt- 
ing. Damfino whispered that she would make a bolt for 
the field, if we would follow ; and we said we would. At 
once she shied into the ditch, and the next minute was 
knee-deep in quicksand, and still sinking. Cheese and I 
stood riveted to the trail, while the men just gaped at 
Damfino with open mouths. Damfino, thinking she would 
soon be out of sight, brayed as she never brayed before. 

When Pod got his senses he yelled, "Let's pull her 
out !" 

"What with? Every rope and strap's on Damfino," 
said the truthful valet, running around like a head with 

241 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the chicken cut off. Coonskin tried to reach a rope and, 
losing his balance, put a foot in the quicksand. Then, all 
excited, he attempted to pull his foot out, and got them 
both in. The Professor tried to reach a bridle-rein to 
his comrade, and went sprawling across the ditch on his 
corduroys and whiskers, his arms elbow-deep in the mire. 
This put Don in a panic. Seeing his master sinking, he 
grabbed his boots and pulled them off. Then he fastened 
his teeth in Pod's trousers, and I expected to see them 
come off too, but s' help me Balaam ! the dog only pulled 
off one trouser leg, when Coonskin managed to free him- 
self by crawling over Pod's corduroy road to dry land, 
and saved the day ! At once, with a bridle-rein, the valet 
roped the Professor's feet and pulled him out, after 
which both men fastened the reins to Damfino's pack 
and tied the other ends to the saddles of Cheese and my- 
self. Then that she-ass, wet and gray as a rat, with her 
burden, was dragged out of the ditch into the trail. 
Well, that quicksand pulled all the bad nature out of her, 
and she went a long time before she was tempted to leave 
the trail again. 

The men looked grateful as they wiped the brine from 
their faces, and Pod remarked, "That was a narrow 
escape for all of us. Our donkey party came within two 
of going ass-under, sure." 



242 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

BY PYE POD. 

It has come about that now, to many a Royal Society, the Cre- 
ation of a World is little more mysterious than the cooking of a 
dumpling; concerning which last, indeed, there have been minds 
to whom the question, How the apples were got in, presented 
difficulties. — Sartor Resartus. 

It was noon at Big Springs, the last village on the 
Union Pacific Railroad in Nebraska, when I sat down 
to write in my dairy. I had just finished a combination 
breakfast and dinner, warranted to kill any appetite and 
keep it dead for twelve hours. Consequently I wrote 
under great pressure. 

Since striking Camp Coyote, I had shot prairie dogs, 
owls, jack-rabbits, and gophers innumerable, but on Wed- 
nesday, June 30, I killed my first rattlesnake. It was not 
the first we had seen, but the first to lie in our path. I 
wanted to shoot it's head off, but instead of it losing its 
head, I lost mine, and severed its vertebrae. The snake 
was three feet five, and possessed eight rattles and a but- 
ton. Cookskin suggested that the button might come in 
handy in many ways. "You know. Pod, you are always 
losing buttons." 

These dreaded reptiles abound on the plains, particu- 
larly in dogtowns, where they can dine on superfluous 
baby-dogs when families become too large. Three sorts 
of creatures, including the owl— --animal, bird, and reptile — 
bunk together companionably, but have quarrels of their 
own, doubtless, like mankind in domestic affairs. At 

243 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

that season the South Platte was drained for irrigation 
in Colorado. I was riding peaceably along, watching 
its morbid current and the gray hills beyond, when sud- 
denly my valet yelled to me, "Look out, Pod, a rattler 
ahead !'* 

Coonskin was riding Cheese, who leaped to one side, 
but my own steed, blinded by his spectacle-frames, walked 
on and stepped over the coiled snake, which struck at my 
leg. Fortunately my canvas legging protected me from 
the reptile's fangs, which glanced off, letting him fall in 
the trail. Instantly I turned in my saddle and ended its 
miserable existence. 

The report of my revolver attracted some cowboys, 
who galloped up on their rope horses and accompanied 
us to their adobe house a few miles beyond. It was five 
in the afternoon, the day was hot, and our journey long 
and dusty. They were a jolly lot. Thir ranch was a 
square sod structure, without a floor, and sparingly fur- 
nished, but cool and comfortable. 

''We'll have hot biscuit for supper," said one of the 
cowboys. 

*'So you like cooking," I remarked; *T pride myself 
on the dumplings I make, and my flapjacks are marvels 
of construction." 

"Hang together well, I suppose," observed the cook, 
smiling and piling buffalo chips in the stove. 

"I haven't tasted dumplings since I visited the World's 
Fair," said another. 

"Well," declared the first speaker, '*my tenderfoot 
friend, your oven will soon be hot, and the flour, soda, 
shortening, and apples are on the shelf. Anything else 
you need, ask for it." 

I was in a bad fix; I remembered the parrot that got 
into trouble with the bull-terrier by talking too much. 

244 



AT BUFFALO BILL'S RANCH. 

"It requires a long time to steam dumplings ; it will 
delay supper," I protested. 

"We shan't turn you out, if it takes you all night, but 
we'll shoot the enamel off your front teeth if you don't 
make them apple dumplings, and do your best," said a 
cowboy. 

"All right, boys, I'll try my luck, and you can save 
time by helping." 

"Sure," all replied. — 

"Fetch me the shortening," I called. 

"Right before your eyes," said one. 

"Blamed if I can see it," I explained. The fellow put 
his hands on a cake of greasy-looking substance. 

"That's soap," I said, remonstrating, with a chuckle. 

"All we use for shortening," apologized the cook; 
"don't see much butter or lard out on this here desert." 

I fell to with a will. Before long my dough was mixed. 
As I rolled it out with a tin can, I directed a cowboy to 
put in the apples and roll up the dough. Soon the dump- 
lings were in the steamer, and the cook began to prepare 
other eatables for the meal. Then, my duty done, I 
watched two fellows throw the lariat, and shoot the fly 
specks off Coonskin's hat in midair. 

At last, five hearty eaters sat down to dinner. The 
cook's hot biscuits, potatoes, bacon, eggs and coffee were 
delicious, and I devoured them greedily. But in the mid- 
dle of our repast I turned my head in time to detect the 
cook meddling with the dumplings. 

"Shouldn't take off the cover till they're done," I 
shouted ; "makes 'em heavy." 

"Didn't take it off — lifted itself off," explained the man, 
regarding me first, then the steamer. "Man alive, the 
dumplings are as big as cabbages." 

245 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

*'And 'tain't more'n likely they've got their growth 
yet," said Coonskin, who examined the wonders. 

"Gracious !" I exclaimed. ''How many apples did you 
cram into each dumpling?" 

"Only fifteen or twenty," the cook returned; "awfully 
small, you know." 

"That explains the size of them," said I. "You've got 
a half dozen whole apples in each dumpling, and a peck 
or more in the steamer. Don't you know dried fruit 
swells ?" 

"But how am I to keep the lid on the steamer," asked 
the hungry cook, wistfully eying the disappearing meal. 

"Sit on it, you crazy loon," suggested a companion." 

And the fellow did. Presently there was a deafening 
report, and the cook was lifted off the steamer, while 
dumplings flew in every direction, striking the ceiling, 
and then, from heaviness, dropping on the floor. One 
broke my plate into a dozen pieces. Another hot and 
saucy dumpling shot through the bursted side of the 
steamer, hitting one of the cowboys in the eye. 

"Just my luck," I said ; "they would have been as light 
as a feather." 

"Light!" exclaimed the injured fellow with a hand- 
kerchief against his scalded optic. "It was the heaviest 
thing that ever hit me, let me tell you, and I've been 
punching cattle seven years." 

When the excitement was over, and we had found sulTfi- 
cient grub to complete our meal, all assembled in the cool 
outer air, where Coonskin and I entertained with our 
musical instruments until bedtime. 

Next morning, on my suggestion, a cowboy threw his 
lariat round my body good-naturedly and pulled me over, 
but before I could right myself Don took three bounds 
and pulled the fellow down by the shoulder, frightening 

246 



AT BUFFALO BILL'S RANCH. 

one and all. I shouted so loudly to the dog that I was 
hoarse for a week. That demonstration of Don's loyalty 
was a revelation to me. The man was not injured, al- 
though his coat was torn. 

The lack of energy and enterprise of the town of the 
western plains was both surprising and amusing. I ex- 
pected a package of photos at Willow Island. When I 
called for it I was informed that the railroad station had 
burned a few months before, and that their express 
stopped at Cozad, which I had passed through. So I 
wrote to have the package forwarded to a station farther 
west. 

Gothenburg, the next town, was in a decline, the re- 
action of a boom. A traveler approaching it expects to 
find a business center. Many stores and dwellings were 
of brick, but whole rows were vacant at the time. The 
soothing melody of the squalling infant was only a 
memory to the village druggist ; the itinerant butcher 
and milkman had ceased their daily rounds ; and all that 
was left to distinguish the half-deserted village from the 
desert was an occasional swallow that went down the 
parched mouth of a chimney. There is another town 
characteristic of the plains. I had a letter to post at 
Paxton, but forgot it ; some miles beyond, a ranchman 
whom we met said I would find a post-office at Korty, five 
miles further on. After traveling two hours, we could 
see no vestige of a village anywhere. Don ran ahead to 
the top of every sand hill and stood on his hind feet to 
have the first peep at the mysterious town. I came to 
the conclusion the ranchman had said twenty-five miles 
instead of five. Finally the trail approached the railroad. 

"I see the town of Korty !" my valet exclaimed. 

* Where ?" I asked. 

247 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"There. Plain as day. Can't you see it?" he asked, 
pointing straight ahead. 

"I must confess I can't," I replied. "Let me look over 
your finger." Then I saw it. It wasn't one hundred 
feet away. A single white-painted post stood beside the 
track, and on it was nailed a cross-bar, lettered in bold 
type, "Korty ;" underneath was a letter-box. That was 
the town. There was no section house, no water tank, 
no break in the wire fence, and there being, of course, no 
general delivery window in the "post-office," I did not ask 
for my mail. 

On the way to North Platte, we passed the site of old 
Ft. McPherson, where Buffalo Bill, the celebrated scout, 
once lived and won his fame and title by providing 
buffalo meat for the Government, and also the site of a 
notorious Pawnee village, now called Pawnee Springs. 
We reached North Platte, situated at the confluence of 
the North and South Platte rivers, which form the great 
River Platte, Saturday afternoon, and spent Sunday in 
a manner to meet the approval of the most pious. 

That first evening I lectured from a large dry-goods 
box on a prominent corner. 

Sunday afternoon an old friend and classmate drove 
me into the country to the famous "Scout's Rest Ranch," 
the estate of Mr. Cody (Buffalo Bill), where I saw a herd 
of buffalo and a cornfield of 500 acres. 

"There is quite a contrast between your cornfield and 
mine," I said to the manager. 

'How big a cornfield have you ?" 

'Just a small one," I replied. "One acher on each big 
toe." 

"I see, only sufficient for your own use," came the re- 
sponse ; "your 'stock in' trade, as it were." Then the 
ranchman purchased a photo, and we two grown-up school 

248 



"] 



AT BUFFALO BILL'S RANCH. 

boys drove back to town, in time to escape a thunder 
shower. 

The country between North Platte and Julesburg is a 
desolate and barren region. Occasionally we could see 
a ranch house, sometimes cattle grazing on I knew not 
what. There was plenty of alkali grass in the bottom 
lands of the Platte, and further back on the mesa, patches 
of the short and nutritious buffalo grass, half seared by 
the scorching sun. The railway stations, with one or two 
exceptions, consisted of water tanks and section houses, 
where water could be procured. At Ogalala we met a 
train-load of Christian Endeavorers, and had a chance 
to quench our thirst. 



249 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

BY MAC a'rONY. 

What a thrice double ass 
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god, 
And worship this dull fool ! — Tempest. 

Where and how to celebrate the Fourth of July greatly 
concerned Pye Pod. The third was spent in Julesburg, a 
town in Colorado, two miles west of the boundary line; 
as Sunday was the Fourth, we naturally expected a lively 
programme for Saturday. 

We were disappointed. Everybody had gone off on 
an excursion, and Julesburg was dead. So my master, 
realizing the long journey before us, inquired as to the 
possibility of obtaining an extra donkey, and was told of 
one, some six miles from town. He rode in a buggy 
to a ranch right after lunch and brought back the pret- 
tiest damsel I ever saw. Her name was Skates ; Pod 
said he so named her because she ran all the way and 
beat his pride-broken, wind-broken horse into town. I 
gave Skates a loving smile, but she gave me a look, which 
said, ''Keep your distance, young feller." So I did. But 
I lost my heart to that girl then and there. 

Pod noticed my leaning toward Skates, and asked me 
my intentions. I frankly told him. "But what nonsense 
for a youth of four years," he remarked. "Mac, be pa- 
tient ; wait until you are of age, at least." 

Time v/as precious, and we could not tarry. That 
afternoon we set out for Sterling, sixty miles into the 

250 



FOURTH OF JULY IN THE DESERT. 

desert, where, it was said, there would be a big time on 
the fifth. 

Monday dawned cloudy and threatening, as is -usual 
with celebration days. The tent door was open, and 
Skates and I were looking in, I waiting for a chance to 
pull a bag of eatables out of the tent for her. 

"What is your programme for to-day ?" Pod asked his 
valet. 

No answer. The question was repeated ; still no re- 
sponse. Then my master turned drowsily on his pillow, 
and beheld Coonskin with bloodshot eyes and the only 
whiskey bottle clasped lovingly to his breast. The valet 
wanted to say something, but his lips refused to speak. 
It was evident that his celebration had begun the night 
before. Pod sat up and rubbed his eyes to make sure 
he was not dreaming, and then asked the fellow why he 
drank all the emergency whiskey. 

"R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rat-schnake bite-bite-bited me — d — 
drank whisky t'shave life," stammered the youth. "H-h- 
h-hic-have shome, Prof." 

Pod looked mad. He up and dressed, and mixed soda 
and water and lemon juice, and made Coonskin drink it. 
Soon the tipsy fellow tried to dress, but finally gave it up 
and went to sleep. Two hours later he awoke quite sober, 
and came out to where Pod was currying me for the cele- 
bration, and showed him his programme. I haven't space 
to give it in full. 

One feature was an obstacle race, the prize for the 
winner being a quart bottle of snake-bit (whiskey). 
Coonskin said, as his excuse for drinking the whiskey, 
that he was certain of winning the race, but afraid the 
bottle might be broken before the event. Pod thought 
that reasonable enough, and forgave him ; but he told me 
confidentially that he didn't know what he should do if he 

251 



GN A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

were bitten by a rattlesnake without whiskey at hand. I 
suggested, in such event, he should point a revolver at 
Coonskin's garret, where his brains ought to have been, 
and make him suck out the poison. 

The obstacle race began at eleven in the morning. The 
start was made from the tent door; the course and con- 
ditions were as follows : 

Run to the fifth fence-post down the trail, alongside the 
railroad track ; crawl through the barbed-wire fence four 
times between different posts on the way back to the 
tent, without tearing clothes ; creep through the legs of 
the little portable table (purchased in Julesburg) without 
rolling off an egg resting on it ; run a hundred yards and 
unpicket one of the donkeys and ride it round the tent 
three times with a spoon in hand, holding an egg ; ride the 
donk back to his picket-pin and crawl between its hind legs 
without disturbing the animal's equilibrium ; stand in the 
tent door and shoot some hair off one of the donkey's 
tails without touching the tail proper ; then lead that 
donkey to the tent and hitch him to the turtle. Bill. 
Cheating, if detected, forfeited the prize. 

Well, while there were two starters, there was only 
one finisher. It seems that Coonskin shot a piece off 
Cheese's tail (improper, the donk said), and, in conse- 
quence, man and donk disappeared over the horizon, with- 
out leaving their future address or the date for their 
return. 

Coonskin rode Cheese into camp after dark. Then he 
rubbed axle-grease on Cheese's sensitive part, and pre- 
pared the delayed dinner. Next came fire-works — Roman 
candles, firecrackers, and pin-wheels — after which both 
men retired, fancying they had the jolliest Fourth ever 
witnessed by man or donkey in the history of the Colorado 
desert. 

252 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 



BY PYE POD. 



Sancho Panza hastened to his master's help as fast as his ass 
could go, and when he came up he found the knight unable to 
stir, such a shock had Rosinante given him in the fall. — Don 
Quixote. 

The casualty, which terminated our celebration on the 
fifth, seemed to portend bad luck. The metaphorical 
lightning first struck me. We struck camp, that hot July 
day, before the sun was an hour high, and a mile beyond 
trailed through a dog-town reservation. I had long been 
desirous of securing a prairie dog to have mounted ; as a 
rule one can pick off these shy creatures only at long 
rifle range. This morning, stealing up behind a corn- 
field, I wounded a dog, then dropping my gun, ran to 
catch him before he could escape into his hole. Crawling 
through a barbed-wire fence without afterward appear- 
ing in dishabille is considered by a tenderfoot the feat of 
feats. Before I reached the hole half undressed the dog 
had tumbled into it. He must have made a mistake, how- 
ever, for out the fellow came, and made for another hole. 
I grabbed him, but instantly dropped him, for he tried to 
bite me. Then, like a shot, he dived into the second hole, 
and I thrust my arm in to pull him out. But my hand 
came out quite as fast as it went in. It was bitten ; and 
at the mouth of the hole I now detected for the first time 
the tail of a rattlesnake. Hhat was an awful moment, 
What should I do? My whiskey was gone; I had no 

253 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

antidote for the poison. I rushed to where Coonskin 
was waiting with my outfit. 

"Make for the house !" he exclaimed. 

A ranch house stood some two miles away, but not a 
soul was in sight. Still, that seemed to be my only sal- 
vation ; I realized a painful death was the only alternative. 
With a hundred other thoughts rushing into my head, I 
ran toward the distant house. Coonskin began picketing 
the donkeys, and promised to follow. 

While racing madly through the cacti and sage, I 
thought of my past, from three months upward. Just 
when I had reached an episode, which almost ended my 
reckless career at the age of ten, I heard the sound of 
galloping hoofs, and, a moment later, a young woman 
reined her steed at my side, dismounted and gave me her 
horse. 

"Into the saddle, quick, man !" she cried. "Mother has 
turpentine and whiskey. The horse will take the fence 
and ditch. Pull leather, stick to the saddle, never mind 
the stirrups!" and to the horse — "Git home, Topsy! — 
Run for your life, old girl !" Like a flash, the big mare 
sped forward with the velocity of the wind. 

To pull leather, in the parlance of the cowboy, means 
to grip the saddle with the hands. For a cow-puncher 
to pull leather is deemed disgraceful ; for Pod, it was ex- 
cusable. Although the mare fairly flew, she did not 
travel half fast enough to suit me. With reins round 
the saddle-horn, I gripped the saddle with my left hand 
and sucked the bite on my right, but suddenly the mare 
took a hop-skip-and-jump over the fence and ditch; fell 
to her knees, and threw me over her head. 

When I sat tip, I saw a woman in the door of the 
house, yet a half mile away, no doubt, wondering how a 
maniac happened to be on her daughter's steed. The 

254 



BITTEN BY A RATTLER. 

next moment, Coonskin arived all out of breath, and as- 
sisted me to the house. Before we could fully explain the 
situation, the good woman disappeared, soon to return 
with a bottle of turpentine, which she turned nozzle down 
over the snake bite, while my valet poured whiskey down 
my throat. 

They say it takes a long time and much whiskey to 
affect one bitten by a rattler, but this case seemed to be 
an exception ; in a few moments, my head was going 
round, and I prostrate on a couch. My kind, nurse 
looked curiously at the turpentine, and finally said it was 
queer it didn't turn green, as it should in the case of a 
rattle-snake bite. 

A half hour passed and still there was no change. 
Then when I repeated my story of how the thing hap- 
pened, she grinned, and said she guessed it was the prairie 
dog and not the snake that bit me, after all. I was so 
dead drunk when the daughter came that she glanced at 
me and asked in a whisper, 'Ts he dead?" 

"No," said the mother, "and he ain't going to die. 
We've been trying to cure dog bite with 'snake bit',, and I 
reckon it'll take a week or more to sober the man up." 

Then the daughter began to get a meal, and Coonskin 
went after my outfit, on the good woman's suggestion, to 
fetch my animals to the corral. 

It was not until morning that I was fit to sit my sad- 
dle ; but I made the effort, and after thanking my host- 
esses and insisting on paying for the turpentine, we said 
good-bye. 

Mid-day travel, in the Colorado desert at that season, 
was enervating in the extreme. Our straw helmets, be- 
ing supported by a skeleton crown, allowed a free circula- 
tion of air over and about the head; also a free circula- 
tion of buffalo gnats, blue flies, mosquitos, flying ants, 

255 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

grasshoppers, and everything else that hadn't an excuse 
for Hving. Everything seemed to be free in that country. 

The sunrays beat down mercilessly on the sandy plain, 
and every live thing seemed to be in search of shade or 
water. Once, while crossing the dry and cracked bed of 
a stream, I saw a rabbit, almost dying of thirst, and I 
put an end to its agony with my six-shooter. In the nar- 
row bars of shade cast by the fence posts along the rail- 
road, could be seen occasional birds, standing on the hot 
sand, immovable, with bills wide open, panting from the 
excessive heat. 

We reached Sterling late that night, after a twenty- 
eight mile journey. The town looked dull. Everybody 
complained of the hottest weather for years. It occurred 
to me that an awning would add greatly to our comfort, 
so I bought the canvas, and had one made. Henceforth 
we would travel at night, and sleep as much as possible 
in the day beneath the awning. I also purchased a light 
folding chair, which, with our table and stove, could easily 
be carried on Skates, the new donkey. 

We pitched camp eight miles from town, near a sod 
house and well. On the way the donkeys became ob- 
streperous, and before they were under control, our only 
lantern was smashed. This stroke of bad luck was the 
forerunner of other misfortunes. 

As I fell on my hard bed, expecting to have a delightful 
rest, I voiced a righteous yell of pain, and leaped out of 
doors. I was a fair imitation of a porcupine. Coonskin 
had carelessly pitched the tent on a bed of cacti. The 
astonished fellow made profuse apologies, and set to the 
task of picking the cactus spears out of me by the flare 
of lighted matches. But for a week I suffered the sensa- 
tions of sleeping on pins and needles. 

The turtle. Bill, deserves some notice. He was put in 

256 



BITTEN BY A RATTLER. 

the center of a table at meal time to catch flies, but all 
that stupid turtle did was to scrape them off his head by 
drawing it under his shell. He disdained the carnivorous 
diet. Millions of insects swarmed about the table, where 
before only thousands had gathered, attracted, doubtless, 
by Bill. They literally covered our food and all we could 
safely eat was flapjacks. Holding a fork against the 
mouth, we could with lips and tongue draw a flapjack in 
through the tines, by which delicate operation all flies and 
other insects were scraped off; and in cfourse of time a 
fairly good meal was conveyed to our stomachs. Of 
course, one's success depended upon the strength of the 
flapjacks. Most of them stood the strain. 

The afternoon of July ii, we saw Long's Peak, the 
first spur of the Rocky Mountains, in view. The follow- 
ing evening we rode into Fort Morgan. Journeying on, 
to escape the heat of the day, we came at midnight to 
where several trails crossed, and were puzzled which to 
take. 

'Tut the responsibility on the donkeys," I finally sug- 
gested. "They've great instinct." 

"Good idea," commented my valet ; "I've often heard 
of horses taking lost hunters out of the woods." So 
giving the word, my caravan resumed the march in the 
darkness, and went into camp about four in the morning. 
When I arose about noon, I was surprised to find our- 
selves on the outskirts of a village. I called Coonskin, 
with a feeling of suspicion dawning in my mind. 

"The blasted town looks familiar," said mv valet. 

About that time a cowboy rode up, and I asked him the 
name of the town. 

"Fort Morgan," he answered. "Have you fellows lost 
anything?" Coonskin and I eyed each other, then both 
gazed thoughtfully at the jackasses. 

257 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I was provoked about the loss of that night's journey; 
to think of our following our donkey's ears round an 
imaginary race-course in the desert, some twenty odd 
miles, was not conducive to a good temper. Many well- 
meaning persons had advised me to carry a compass. 
Some day, some night, they said, I would stray from the 
trail. I resolved to purchase such an instrument imme- 
diately on reaching Denver. 

We spent the afternoon enjoying the luxuries of our 
new awning and camp chairs ; I writing my article for the 
press, Coonskin reading a thrilling dime novel. 

'This is life," remarked my napping valet, as he rolled 
over on his pillow. 

"You bet," I replied ; " we know who we are." 

"I suppose there are lots of folks who don't know. 
Prof," he returned; "but they'll find out before we reach 
'Frisco." 

"But Coonskin," I asked, looking up from my writing, 
"do you know where we are?" 

I had no sooner put the question than a whirlwind 
swept down upon the camp and scattered everything 
broadcast. Tent, awning, table, chairs, ink and writing 
pad, packing cases, and articles of all kinds, not to men- 
tion dog, donkeys, and men chased each other over the 
cacti and sand; the tent half inflated, rolled over in the 
scudding wind like a balloon. 

"No, I don't," said Coonskin, gaining a sitting posture 
a rod from where I stood on my head, some hundred yards 
from our original camp. 

"What are you talking about? — are you wandering?" 
I asked. 

"I thing the whole shooting-match has been wandering 
some," said he, picking the sand out of his eyes. 

258 



BITTEN BY A RATTLER. 

It was long before we collected our belongings. I 
never found my letter for the press. 

Just before sunset we took up the march across the 
broad, rolling plains, which grew tiresome to look upon 
before darkness set in. But occasionally a hand-car with 
its sloop-rigged sails set to the wind would speed over 
the rails in the distance, like a cat-boat before a gale, and 
break the monotony of the scene.^ This mode of travel 
appears to be characteristic of the Western plains alone. 

We saw innumerable buffalo wallows, great depres- 
sions in the sand where the vast herds of buffalo in the 
early days wallowed in the cool earth for salt, and to es- 
cape the heat and pestering gnats. In most cases these 
"wallows" are covered with cacti and other desert ver- 
dure, and are apt to upset the unwary traveler after dark, 
unless he keeps to the beaten trail. 

At a little before sunset we arrived at the great D. 
Horse Ranch, where we watered our animals and ac- 
cepted the ranchman's invitation to supper. 



259 



CHAPTER XXXV. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



That is the idea; for Juliet's a dear, sweet, mere child of a girl, 
you know, and she don't bray like a jackass. — Huckleberry Finn. 

We did not tarry at the D. Horse Ranch, but later on 
pitched camp near a sheep ranch run by a Mexican, who 
met us with a grunt that nobody understood. 

''Gee! how I wish I could speak Spanish!" remarked 
Pod, facing the squatty ranchman. It was comical to 
watch Coonskin's puzzled face. "I once studied Spanish, 
buy why didn't I master it ! Just two words can I re- 
member: "porque" — why, and "manana" — to-morrow. 
But how can they help me? To utter them would be to 
ask, why to-morrow? And there would be no sense in 
that." 

"But it might convey the idea," I interrupted, "that 
either you know more than you looked to know, or ap- 
peared to know more than you do know ; and that would 
be something." 

My master did not answer, but when the Mexican 
came around again, he said to him, "Porque manana?" 
The Mexican laughed — who could blame him — and said 
something about Espanola, a young lady I never heard 
tell of, and invited us all to the corral, except the men, 
who followed him to the house. Nothing like Mexican 
hospitality when one understands the language as Pod did. 

At first the Mexican did not comprehend that we all 
were thirsty. The Professor asked for a drink in many 

260 



HAVOC IN A CYCLONE. 

varieties of expression, concluding with a desperate 
'Torque Manana?" at the same time pointing to the well. 
The Mexican grinned, and replied in a peculiar vernacu- 
lar, and handed him a huge tin cup. Pod next inquired 
the right trail to Brighton in many artistic demonstrations 
of verbal inflection and gesticular design, and wound up 
with a heroic 'Torque Manana." The mystified sheep 
herder shook his head quizzically, and began to pour out 
a whole tubful of liquid linguistics which my pedantic 
master drained to the dregs without discovering their 
meaning ; then he shook hands with the gracious host and 
gave the word to "hit the trail." 

"Mighty lucky you understood Spanish, Mr. Pod," 
Coonskin remarked, when we were some distance from 
the house. 'Td give a farm to speak it like you." 

That tickled Pod's vanity, and he told his flattering 
valet that Spanish could not be learned in a day, but per- 
haps sometime he would give him a few lessons, just to 
prepare him for an emergency. 

That night we donks were picketed to a rickety, barbed- 
wire fence, and the men pitched the tent close by, cooked, 
and went to bed early. Seldom had been so much care 
taken to prevent my getting wound up in the rope so I 
couldn't eat or lie down. In the morning there was a 
surprise for everybody. S' help me Balaam ! if there 
wasn't a circus, then I never saw one. We donks were 
completely tangled in the dismantled wire fence, and cut- 
ting up capers to beat a side-show. I kept my eye peeled 
on the tent door for an hour. Finally Pod came out, 
took in the situation at a glance, and then sat down on a 
cactus, for less than a fraction of a second, to laugh. 

I was proud of the role I played in that matinee. 
There I was, with a fence post wired to each of my legs, 
which raised my feet off the ground, walking about on 

261 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

veritable stilts, and close behind me followed Cheese and 
Skates with a post yoking their necks together, like oxen, 
while Damfino was rolling over and over, unmindful of 
the cacti, as if our extraordinary sport were for her special 
entertainment. We were quiet, until Cheese suddenl3f 
opened his mouth and brayed with glee. I told him to 
shut up. Says I, 'Tod will think we got in this fix on 
purpose, and give us Hail Columbia." 

Pod looked worried. He said he wondered how they 
could dismount that girafife — meaning me, no doubt — 
without breaking his legs. I didn't feel comfortable so 
far above the earth, the atmosphere was chilly, and the 
rarified air made me dizzy ; but that remark frightened me. 
The trick was, at last, accomplished. Coonskin held my 
fore-stilts, while Pod braced his feet, and with a violent 
push threw me over on my side on a pile of blankets and 
pillows. Well, let me tell you, my donkey friends, it 
required two hours to free us from the fence-posts and 
wire. After that, both men busied themselves like Red 
Cross Nurses. (Skates said they were cross nurses of 
some sort), and bandaged up our cuts and scratches, 
then, after breakfast, they saddled and packed us for the 
day's journey. I never want another experience like that. 

On Thursday night, I think (I ate up Pod's only calen- 
dar), we again wandered from the trail, and about two 
o'clock camped near a cottonwood tree which seemed to 
indicate we were near water. Although I was awfully 
dry, I had to wait till morning. It was pleasant to be 
lulled to sleep by the rustling of leaves (and it was consol- 
ing to know something besides us donks had to rustle), 
yet there we were in the boundless desert, Don's barking 
awoke us early. A ranchman rode up and said we would 
find plenty of water yonder at the well, the only water 
for many miles around ; then he rode away. 

262 



HAVOC IN A CYCLONE. 

There was one long row of cottonwood trees hun- 
dreds of feet apart, stretching- for a mile or two across 
the desert, as if planted by birds fifty years ago. 

Pod took us empty donks and canteens over to the well. 
That was the novelest thing I ever saw; and the water 
was the coolest I ever tasted. An iron wheel turned in a 
cog and drove a piston-rod down a deep well, the power 
being furnished by a meek-looking horse which walked 
round the pump in circus fashion, thinking he was the 
whole show, and pulled a sort of walking-beam that turned 
the cog-wheel. There the ranchman and his big small 
boy rode every morning many miles from home to pump 
water for their cattle, which ate (they evidently had eaten 
everything in sight) during the day, and chewed their cud 
at night in the cottonwood shade. 

That morning, when several miles nearer our goal, a 
stiff wand introduced itself and increased in velocity until 
such speed was attained that the men had to stop travel- 
ing and tie the whole outfit to the picket-pins driven in the 
ground. That gale beat the tornado on the shore of Lake 
Erie, and the cyclone near Sterling. We donks had to lie 
down with our backs to the wind, for Damfino, not think- 
ing, lay the other way at first, and the wind blew into her 
mouth so fast she swelled up twice her natural size. She 
was so full of air that she arose and turned around, be- 
fore being able to lie down again. 

Pod said it was a good time to write his letter for the 
paper. So he hitched his shoulders to ropes tied to picket- 
pins about five feet apart, and sat in a camp-stool, and, 
facing the gale, laid his writing pad on the wind, and 
finished his article in fine style. 

When I asked him how the wind could be so strong as 
to brace up both the pad and his story, he said he was 
writing in a lighter vein than usual. 

263 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

We were in sight of Brighton next morning when a 
strange accident happened to Pod. We were approaching 
a field of grain on an irrigated ranch when, suddenly, he 
was struck on the head by a mastodon grasshopper and 
knocked senseless out of the saddle. At once Don chased 
the creature and headed him off, while Coonskin lassoed 
him and bound him on Damfino. We took the wonder 
to Denver. There Pod put the thing in a bottle of alcohol, 
but it hadn't been there more than a half hour when it 
kicked out the bottom, and almost upset a street car in 
trying to escape. Again the grasshopper was captured, 
then poisoned and skinned, and the bones were expressed 
to the Smithsonian Museum. 

About one o'clock we left the line of the B. & M. rail- 
road, and cut across the plain six miles to the Union 
Pacific, which we had left on the previous week. Then 
we began to descend into the verdant valley of the 
Platte. Great fields of grain waved in the breeze on 
either hand. The song of the reaper was cheering, the 
glistening snow on the distant Rockies, cooling. 

At last our caravan ambled into Brighton. It im- 
pressed me as a pretty town ; after crossing a two hun- 
dred mile desert, I was in condition to compliment any 
sort of a place. That night we traveled ten miles and 
camped near the Nine Mile House, where, next morning, 
we were disappointed not to obtain breakfast. 

Beautiful, far-famed Denver loomed up on the distant 
plain. The smoke from her smelters curled on high, a 
dusky sign of prosperity. We breakfasted three miles 
nearer the city, and at two P. M. our picturesque outfit 
strode up Seventeenth street and anchored in front of the 
Albany Hotel. Denver at last ! 



264 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

BY PYE POD. 

At the head of the procession strode the four heralds. Silently 
they marched, in silence the populace received them. The spec- 
tacle reminded very old men of the day the great Axaya was 
born in mournful pomp to Chapultepec. — The Fair God. 

When I had taken a bird's-eye view of Denver, and 
visited many of its handsome streets and buildings, and 
met its hospitable citizens, I dubbed it one of the most 
attractive cities. 

One of the first to greet me was a member of the Jack- 
sonian Club, who invited me to attend a lawn party to be 
given at the home of a fellow member. The grounds 
were illuminated with Japanese lanterns and a platform 
was erected for speech-making, while indoors were served 
refreshments. In the midst of the pleasant proceedings a 
gentle rain frightened everybody into the house, where 
dancing closed the festivities. Of course, every pretty 
girl wanted to dance with Pod. 

Sunday seemed to be the accepted day for sight-seeing. 
The ''Seeing Denver" car (electric) made two twenty- 
five mile trips a day, threading the more attractive por- 
tions of the city and suburbs and giving the passengers a 
splendid idea of the beauties and possibilities of Denver. 
Each car was manned by a director, who clearly de- 
scribed all points of interest en route. 

Finally, the car was stopped on the heights overlook- 
ing Clear Creek Valley, where, in 1858, Gregory, a North 

265 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Carolina prospector, discovered gold in quartz and proved 
his theory that all placer ore came from a mother lode. 
People in the East, hearing that gold could be found here 
in quartz, hurried to the spot, resolved to be contented if 
they could only find it in pints. While many were dis- 
appointed, within a year one hundred and seventy quartz 
mills were erected, and in i860 Colorado's gold output 
amounted to $4,000,000. 

The Colorado farmer raises everything in the fruit and 
vegetable line that can be produced in the East. Through 
the system of irrigation the soil is brought to such a 
state of production that one farmer near Denver was 
reaping a revenue of $5,000 a year from a twenty-acre 
plot. 

"One of our best crops is tomatoes," said our guide, 
with the view of enlightening some possible investor. 
"There, you can see in the distance, is one of our largest 
canneries. It cans tomatoes only. All the tomatoes they 
can are raised around Denver, and all the tomatoes not 
consumed in the city are sent to this cannery to be 
canned. They raise all they can and what they can't raise 
they can't can. They eat all they can, and all they can't 
eat they can. Moreover, all they can't can they eat, and 
what they eat they can't can. All canned tomatoes they 
can and cannot eat they ship to those who can't visit 
Denver to eat all they can. If you can visit the cannery 
and see them can all they can and eat what they can't 
can, and can't eat a can yourselves, you then only can 
understand why it is they can't eat what they can and 
can't can what they eat. Can you not?" When he had 
finished three women cried. 

Later on the journey the car was stopped in a different 
quarter of the suburbs, where several got ofif to pluck 
wild flowers. In the course of our tour many attractive 

266 



TWO PRETTY DAIRY MAIDS. 

buildings were pointed out, among them the Consump- 
tive's Home, erected by philanthropists of the East, and 
the several smelting mills, one of which boasts of a 
chimney four hundred feet in height, the tallest on the 
continent. While the ladies were gathering wild flowers 
I was persuaded to perpetrate a practical joke suggested 
by two jovial Johnny Bulls. I had become quite chatty 
with their party. They had the impression that I 
was a cowboy, and when they discovered their error they 
proposed I should jostle a fellow countryman of theirs as 
soon as they could decoy him off the car, they claiming 
that he still believed me a real cow-puncher out for a 
holiday. They said it was his first trip to America, and 
that he had frequently expressed a curiosity to see one of 
those wild men of the plains. On promises of their sup- 
port in case of ofifense being taken, I chuckled and 
awaited my chance. 

Presently the man was persuaded to pick a wild rose, 
and as he was about to pass me I backed roughly against 
him, almost sending him off his feet. When he had re- 
gained his equilibrium and was on the point of rebuking 
me, I turned furiously upon him: "Say, you foreign 
tenderfoot," I said, "you got a pre-emption on the whole 
earth? If so, just fence it in. Don't yer brush me that 
way agin, or I'll show yer how we trim moustaches out 
in this country when our razors ain't sharp. Under- 
stand?" 

As I uttered these words I put my hand on my hip- 
pocket. My sombrero was tilted, and the attitude I 
struck would have amused any real cowboy. The aston- 
ished Englishman, red in the face, edged away in silence 
and eyed me narrowly. 

"Turn your lamps the other way, or I'll shoot ofif yer 
eyebrows!" I shouted. 

267 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

At once the innocent butt of our ungentlemanly joke 
ventured to apologize for the carelessness that was not 
his, when a peal of laughter from behind told plainly 
that the joke was oflf. I turned to see everybody in a fit 
of laughter; I now began to feel embarrassed, and had 
not my confederate immediately explained the case and 
introduced me to their imposed-upon comrade, I cer- 
tainly would have felt very awkward. As it was, the 
tourist laughed heartily at the joke, complimented me on 
my art in acting and gave me a cordial handshake. At 
our journey's end I was introduced to all the ladies, and 
induced to pose for their cameras, after which I departed 
with the well-wishes of all. 

I must not overlook an amusing incident of the trip. 
One of the passengers was an Irishman, who caused 
much merriment by a stroke of wit, or a blunder, just as 
the car stopped in front of the City Hall. 

This lovely park which you see," said the director, 
has been brought to its present beautiful condition by 
levying a tax of one mill on all property owners. The 
burden, you see, was light for each person, and just to 
all." 

"Light was it!" the Emerald-Islander exclaimed. "Be- 
gorry! mills must be dom plintiful in these parts, whin 
every mon is willin' to give uup a mill for an interist in 
a parruk. Be dad! it must ha' been rough on th' mon 
that owned but one mill. It was thot!" Whereupon our 
erudite guide politely dissertated on the great difiference 
in mills, to the amusement of the English party and the 
Hibernian's satisfaction. 

Before leaving Denver I found it advisable to add con- 
siderable to my traveling equipment. I ordered a tin 
canteen from my own design, to hold a gallon of water, 
and within it was fashioned a receptacle for holding two 

268 






TWO PRETTY DAIRY MAIDS. 

pounds of butter. Its value was constantly appreciated 
when crossing the deserts where we were enabled to 
carry butter, and an extra quantity of drinking water 
which was kept cool by wrapping the canteen with cloth 
and canvas and keeping them in a moist condition. I 
also purchased a large basket-covered demijohn of port 
wine (for medicinal purposes), an extra pack-saddle and 
camp suppHes. 

Although that altitude of 5,000 feet was quite invigor- 
ating, the sun at that season was unusually warm, and I 
intended to enjoy as much camp life as possible. We took 
a southerly course towards Pike's Peak, threading the 
villages of Littleton, Castle Rock, Sedalia and Monu- 
ment, and the city of Colorado Springs. The scenic 
beauties of Colorado became more manifest every day. 

Sunday afternoon I observed in the southwest a dark 
cloud draw a threatening hood over that giant discovery 
of 1806 by Col. Zebulon M. Pike, and I decided to camp 
in the vicinity of a dairy ranch. Anticipating a shower, 
I rode Skates, my fastest donkey, to the house with can- 
teen and pail, leaving Coonskin to unpack, pitch tent, 
and build a wood-pile under shelter. 

On approaching the house, I detected a pretty dairy- 
maid in the doorway. I endeavored to dismount from 
my asinine steed with grace, but the picture so unbal- 
anced me that I caught a foot in a stirrup and fell heels 
over appetite on the ground at my charmer's very feet, 
much to my embarrassment and her amusement. 

"Can you spare me a quart of milk, Miss?" I inquired, 
lifting my hat. She smiled. Then, fearing lest I might 
have created the impression of begging, I asked; "can 
you sell some? I mean to pay for it, of course." 

My words seemed to break her spell, and she replied 
sweetly, "We have two kinds — cream and skimmed milk." 

269 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

And her jeyes sparkled. I caught my breath and gave 
her a chance to lose hers. "Per-per-perhaps you might 
mix the two safely — mightn't you?" I now felt the crisis 
coming, and twisted myself nervously. The maid 
laughed. It quieted my nerves. 

''But," she returned, "you see, the cream is all en- 
gaged, and — and I would not like to sell you the skimmed 
milk, because — because we feed that to the hogs." 

I smiled now and tried to answer. "Well, what is good 
enough for hogs ought — ," and I hesitated, feeling I was 
getting things twisted; but she came to the rescue nobly. 

"What you mean is, what is good enough for you 
ought to be good enough for hogs, eh?" 

"Thank you," I said. "What you say goes," and I 
handed her the pail, which she accepted with a shy 
courtesy. 

As she hurried to the spring house, I watched her 
admiringly until foosteps behind caused me to turn 
around. Behold! there was another young lady, tall and 
becomingly gowned, even prettier than the other. The 
softness of her brown, lustrous eyes bespoke the tender- 
ness in her nature. Even Don interpreted this when she 
patted his head and observed: "What a nice dog you 
have!" 

The expression "nice dog" was very familiar to Don, 
and they were no sooner uttered than the huge dog 
arose to the occasion by planting his fore-paws against 
the lady's breast and attempting to steal a kiss. 

The shock would have upset her completely if I had 
not caught her in my arms. It was therefore under some- 
what embarrassing circumstances that the dairy maid 
witnessed the embrace — embarrassing to all save the dog. 
Explanations will only make matters worse, I thought, 

270 



TWO PRETTY DAIRY MAIDS. 

so I took the pail and kept mum, though I know I looked 
anything but innocent. 

Business over, we conversed until it began to sprinkle, 
and then, after accepting the ladies' invitation to spend 
the evening with them, I cantered back to camp. 

"I feared you had gone on to 'Frisco," said Coonskin; 
"I'm dying for a drink of water." 

Indeed, I had forgotten to fill the canteen — all on ac- 
count of those charming girls. "I declare, Coonskin," I 
explained, "I had such a time persuading the folks to sell 
me a little milk that I never thought of water. I'll hurry 
back for it." And not giving my companion time to an- 
ticipate me, or stopping to mount a donkey^ I did the 
errand on foot. 

That evening we passed a pleasant hour with "wine, 
women and song," and departed with another invitation 
to a fish and game dinner next day, if I would tarry and 
provide trout and birds. Of course, I tarried. Coon- 
skin accompanied me into the canyon next morning with 
rod and line, and in the afternoon with gun and bag. By 
five he had caught a nice mess of trout and I had shot a 
young jack-rabbit. 

It was a delicious repast that was served us by those 
New England girls. We ate fish till their tails stuck 
out of our mouths. The bread tasted like angel's food, 
and the beans were well done, in spite of the fact it re- 
quired a whole day to cook beans in that altitude. 

I smacked my lips and said to myself: "I'll eat heart- 
ily now, for it'll be long before I'll get another dinner 
like this." 

On the way to the Springs next day I suggested to 
Coonskin that we climb the Peak and see the sun rise. 

"Why, is sunrise up there any finer than it is down 
here?" he inquired. 

271 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

I thought he was making a mental calculation of the 
number of steps, and labored breaths, and obsolete words 
the ascent would require. 

''Certainly," I said, ''the reflections to be seen from 
that altitude are more beautiful and varied than from the 
plains." 

"They're more beautiful perhaps, but I've been riding 
a mule over three months now, and my reflections are 
about as varied as anything could make 'em." 

My donkey party reached Colorado Springs in time 
for dinner. 



272 



"Indct>cndcucc 
Pass. . . our of 
the loftiest of t/u 
Continental Di- 
vide." 




Trail to 
Florisaut.' 



"Two days of hard 
climbing to cross 
Western Pass." 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

BY MAC a'rONY. 

The Professor, scorning to waste shoe leather and economize 
francs, began the ascent on a mule steered by a woman holding 
on to the beast's tail. — Easter on the Riviera. 

A curious proceeding held my rapt attention as we 
neared Petersburg, a stiburb of Denver. At the ter- 
minus of a horse-car line I observed a car approaching 
us down-grade, with a horse on its rear platform. As 
soon as the car stopped at the station the horse stepped 
off on a platform and took his place in front of the car, 
ready to haul it up-grade again and earn another ride. I 
did not have the chance to ask the horse how he enjoyed 
it, but I would willingly have exchanged places with him. 

Next morning, to my surprise, Coonskin was the first 
to rise. Our camp was near Littleton, on the banks of 
a small stream, and here at early dawn that ambitious 
youth gathered a panful of glittering wet sand, and 
rushed into the tent with it, almost out of breath. 

"Look here. Pod!" he called, excitedly, ''see the strike 
I've made! The river bottom is yellow with gold!" 

Then I heard Pod say, "Rich, I should say! Funny 
this placer hasn't been discovered before now." 

"Let's file a claim," said Coonskin, "we can make a 
million in six months." 

"Let's!" the Professor exclaimed. As soon as break- 
fast was over both tenderfeet were trying their luck at 
panning gold. A cabin stood not far away, and present- 

273 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

ly there issued from it an old man who approached the 
argonauts, and sat on a log to watch them. 

"Your first experience at placer mining?" the stranger 
observed. 

"For an instant both men looked confused. I could 
see that Coonskin didn't want to reveal his newly dis- 
covered fortune by the way he dumped his sand and 
said nothing. But Pod held on to a frying-pan full of 
sand with one hand, and reached for his revolver with 
the other to defend his claim. 

"Well, boys," observed the native, laughing, "you're 
goin' through jest what all tenderfeet do when they first 
strike these parts — try to wash gold dust out of mica. 
All the streams out here 're filled with them glist'ning 
particles, but recollect, boys, all what glitters ain't gold. 
That you've got's called 'fool's gold.' " 

It was plain that Pod was disappointed, but the 
stranger gave him some good advice, and a large Colo- 
rado diamond for a keepsake, then strolled away, leaving 
two sadder but wiser men. 

The road to Colorado Springs was a popular thor- 
oughfare for bicyclists. Saturday afternoon, as we 
donks began the ascent of a long, steep, and winding in- 
cline, a din of voices and a whir of wheels suddenly 
sounded ahead, and a party of fifty or more young men 
and women in gala attire came speeding down toward 
us. As quickly as possible we donks turned out to the 
right. I think the bicyclists must have been English, 
for they steered to the left. In a minute " it was all off." 

It happened that the leader of the wheel brigade saw 
us donks too late and tried to save himself by turning 
suddenly to his right. Result: Tire off and man off. 
Sequel: A wild rough-and-tumble conglomeration of 
sexes, as his followers mixed up with our party. Bi- 

274 



DONKS CLIMB PIKE'S PEAK. 

cycles, donkeys, men, women, lunch baskets, packs, hats, 
petticoats and cameras were distributed in all directions. 
The cries and shrieks of the bruised and frightened to- 
gether with the confusion of the wreckage so terrified 
us donks that as soon as we could pick ourselves up we 
reared on our haunches, and cavorted, and brayed, and 
so help me Balaam! it was the worst mix-up I was ever 
in. 

When every man had assisted some one else's girl to 
her equilibrium, a council of war assembled to adjust 
grievances and repair machines; but the proceedings did 
not interest the Professor, for he hustled us donks up hill 
and out of sight as quickly as possible. The din of voices 
soon sounded in the distance like a swarm of yellow- 
jackets. 

Colorado City was a gambling resort lying between 
Colorado Springs and Manitou. Our stop there was all 
too brief. While Pod and Coonskin were at feed we 
donks stole down-street to watch a ''play." That was 
the time I regretted having eaten the five dollar bill back 
in Iowa, for three times in succession the roulette ball 
dropped on my colors, and by compounding the prin- 
cipal and interest each time I could have made a beautiful 
scoop which might have given us donks a high old time. 

Thence onward Pike's Peak was the chief topic of dis- 
cussion. To begin with, Pike's Peak is the largest 
mountain of its size in the world. Cats can't live ten min- 
utes on the summit before going crazy, and dogs even 
lose their bark at the timber-line. I concurred with Pod 
that it would be a big feat to climb the Peak. On the 
other hand. Cheese and Skates demurred from our 
opinion. Skates positively declined to leave the stable, 
and Cheese backed her up by putting both fore feet in 
the manger. Damfino stood by Pod and me. She ar- 

275 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

gued that when one has dimbed to an elevation of 14,- 
147 feet above sea-level he is likely to feel a blamed sight 
nearer heaven than he is ever apt to be again. The re- 
sult was that Damfino and I alone accompanied the men 
on that adventuresome trip. 

Everything went well until we struck the cog track in 
Engleman's Canyon. It was the first experience for us 
donks in "hitting the ties." I did not fancy the route at 
all. But Pod, having seen a boy ride a native burro up 
the track, resolved to do no less. The first half mile was 
not steep, and the men rode us donks; but when we 
caught up with a party of men and women making the 
ascent, an ambitious boy grabbed my tail and allowed 
me the privilege of dragging him a hundred yards before 
the Prof discovered him, and dismounted. How I 
thanked the boy for his thoughtfulness. 

Damfino lagged behind. She had changed her mind. 
The consequence was, we donks were driven ahead, and 
Coonskin no sooner hit Damfino a whack with the butt 
of his six-shooter, then she began to pace so fast none 
of us could keep up with her. When we came to the 
steep 25 per cent, grade the men were winded; not '^o 
we donks. The men called to us, but we would not listen. 
They threw stones at us, and we quickened our gait. 
The men couldn't run up-grade to save their lives, where- 
as mountain climbing finds a donkey in his true element. 
"Ain't this fun!" exclaimed Damfino. "Never had such 
a picnic!" I added. Well, Pod walked half the way from 
New York and prided himself on walking, and Coon- 
skin had won medals for sprinting: so it looked to us a 
huge joke, and we just brayed. 

The next instant a locomotive bell sounded ahead, and 
I saw a train approaching from round a bend. We felt 
that we had the right of way, and were much put out 

276 



DONKS CLIMB PIKE'S PEAK. 

when the train refused to stop. We would not get off 
the track; it would be contrary to the nature of first- 
class donkeys to do such a thing. 

Say, what wonderfully powerful things steam engines 
are! We got it in our heads that we could stop the train, 
if we didn't push it off the track. You just ought to have 
seen us pitch headlong down the bank of the canyon into 
the foaming torrent. It was a mighty plunge we made, 
I can tell you. Before we rose to the surface the car 
stopped, and many of the passengers got off. The banks 
of the pool were so steep we couldn't climb out, and we 
had to swim and tread water to keep from drowning. 
Damfino brayed like a lunatic, I spouted like a geyser, 
and great excitement reigned among the tourists. 

Evidently "nothing was doing" for our immediate re- 
lief. The engineer was loudly refreshing Pod's memory 
that he had no right on the railroad bed with his donk- 
eys, and the female passengers gesticulated wildly and 
condoled with Damfino and me for the deep predica- 
ment we were in. One facetious fellow asked if we jack- 
asses were Baptists, and the Professor told him he didn't 
know what denomination we formerly adhered to, but 
he believed that we were skeptics now. 

Presently our masters began search for ropes and 
straps. Alas! all of them had been left behind. I was 
now through with coughing, but still weak and out of 
breath, while Damfino pumped logarithms of abuse at 
the cog train and exhorted me to keep swimming — ad- 
vice entirely unnecessary. Finally the car steamed down 
to Manitou, and the sympathetic occupants called back 
that they would send aid. 

Coonskin was first to come to his senses. Said he, 
'T can run, I'll run to the village for help;" and away he 
went to beat the cars. This expedient awoke the 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Prof.'s dormant mind to an idea, and he began to roll 
rocks into the Pool. At the same time he yelled come- 
thing at us, but I couldn't wait to Hsten, for I ducked un- 
der water in the nick of time to dodge a half-ton boulder. 
It came within an inch of knocking all the bad character 
out of Damfino's head, and completely submerged us 
both. After that Pod was more careful, and instead of 
rolling one giant stone he sent two middle-weights down 
the bank in a manner to make us dive. I concluded Pod 
had gone daft. 

'Tor Balaam's sake! what you trying to do up " 

I brayed loudly, but scarcely finished when I came with- 
in an ace of ^'passing in my chips," as a gigantic pebble 
of the first water whizzed between our heads. Pod called 
back, "Vm lifting the bottom of the pool so you two can 
crawl out." I was astonished at such inventive faculty. 
A wonder we donks survived to tell it. Rolling stones 
may gather no moss, but they need a lot of looking 
after. 

It seemed house before Coonskin returned. By this 
time I had found a footing so I could rest with my head 
out of water. 

"Why were you gone so long?" Pod asked, as he sat 
himself on a rail to rest his windpipe. 

"Well," said the winded man, adjusting a lariat, "I 
hunted all over Manitou before I found the superintend- 
ent of the waterworks." 

"But what on earth did you want of him?" 

"I told him of the fix of our donks, and asked him to 
change the course of the stream till we could get them 
out of the pool." 

"You idiot! And what did he say?" 

"Oh, he was civil enough; said he, 'If you would like 

278 



DONKS CLIMB PIKE'S PEAK. 

to have the mountain moved a little to one side I will 
have it put on jackscrews without delay.' " 

Now it nettled me to listen to such nonsense while 
Damfino and I were refrigerating in ice water, and I 
brayed to the jester above: ''Say there, you old fool, if 
you had only thought to have him pump the water out 
of the canyon above us you might have furnished a little 
dry humor that we would have appreciated." 

The lariat was found to be of little service, but soon a 
couple of tourists arrived on the scene and assisted the 
two with their contract to raise the devil, as well as the 
bed of the torrent, and, at length, to extricate us water- 
soaked donks from our unhappy predicament. Then we 
were taken to the stable, rubbed down, and put to bed. 



279 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

BY PYE POD. 

It is the property of great men to rise to the height of great 
events. — Victor Hugo. 

The city of Colorado Springs possesses many attrac- 
tions, and is growing in population and wealth. Here 
is a good-sized collection of pretty homes, built on wide 
and well-shaded streets, where reside beside the health 
hunter of independent means the mining king, the 
wealthy ranch owner, the Eastern capitalist, and the 
English tourist or speculator. 

Friday morning we entered that picturesque Swiss- 
like hamlet of Manitou with flying colors. The summer 
tourists were either lounging on the broad verandas of 
the hotels or assembling for burro trips to the Garden of 
the Gods and other famous retreats in the mountains. 

Coonskin and I rode our favorite mounts to the prin- 
cipal hotels, .Hiawatha Gardens and the iron and soda 
springs, at which several places I delivered lectures to 
the amused tourists and reaped a small harvest. 

The Garden of the Gods is some distance from town, 
the popular drive being fourteen miles from start to 
finish. To ride our slow steeds there would mean a 
sacrifice of a day's time. So after much prospecting, I 
bargained with a garrulous but genial guide to drive us 
with his team to the Garden and Glen Eyre for the sum 
of $2. 

What a gay old ride that was, in a cushion-seated car- 

280 



SIGHTS IN CRIPPLE CREEK. 

riage! I'll bet there wasn't one square inch of the seat 
that I didn't cover before I got back. Some way I 
couldn't seem to get in a comfortable position. The 
driver-guide was very accommodating and offered to go 
back to put a saddle on the seat for me to ride in, if I 
would but say the word. 

The Garden of the Gods is a picturesque and grotesque 
natural park, the rock formations of red and white sand- 
stone resembling roughly most every bird and beast and 
human character imaginable. In fact, one old pioneer 
whom we met insisted that the place is the original. Gar- 
den of Eden, and that when Adam and Eve were caught 
eating the sour apple, God caused the earth to cough, 
whereupon it threw up mountains of mud and petrified 
many fine specimens of the menagerie. The mountaineer 
struck me as something so unique in his make-up and 
mental get-up that I bribed him to accompany me and 
explain those wonderful exhibits of the earth's first zoo. 
"Now there is Punch and Judy," he said; "most folks 
take them as sech." 

"I suppose you make out they are the stone mummies 
of Adam and Eve?" I interrogated, showing effusive in- 
terest. 

"Our first parents, sure's you are born," he returned 
with conviction. "And there yender is th' old washer- 
woman what done up Eve's laundry." 

"But," I argued, "the Scripture says Eve didn't wear 
clothes, so she couldn't have had any washing." 

The man coughed. — "Well, my young man," said he, 
T've lived a good many year and in a heap of places and 
seen a lot of females come inter the world, or seen 'em 
soon after they did come, and I never yet saw one come 
in dressed, but yer kin bet yer last two-bit piece, from 
what I knows of women, it didn't take Eve more time 

281 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

than she needed to catch her breath to change her 
'mother Eve' fer a 'mother Hubbard.' " 

Then the pioneer pointed out the ''Kissing Camels," 
the "Seal" and "Bear," and the "Baggage-room." 

"Are there any petrified elephants in this menagerie?" 
I asked. "I'm fond of big exhibitions." 

"N-n-no, they ain't no elifants here," said he with a 
jerk of the head. "Yer see when the mud was coughed 
up, they got so fast they left some of their trunks. That's 
them in the Baggage-room yender." And he ha-hahed 
over this poor joke. 

As we passed successively the "Bufifalo's head," the 
"old Scotchman," the "Porcupine," the "Ant Eater," the 
"old man's wine cellar" and the "Egyptian Sphinx" my 
guide enlightened us on geology, botany and mineral- 
ogy far beyond my powers of understanding, but not 
desiring to reveal my ignorance, I listened attentively, 
and now and then gasped: "Well, I never!" "I do de- 
clare!" "Would you believe it!" and "Gracious sakes 
alive!" 

The "Gateway" to the famous park lies between two 
giant towering rocks three to four hundred feet in height, 
and further on the "Balancing Rock," a mammoth mass 
of sandstone, appears to be on the verge of a fall. Be- 
fore leaving the park with its myriad curiosities, I called 
upon the "fat man" who runs a bar, restaurant, curiosity 
shop and miniature zoo. There lying in a box partially 
covered was a sculptured figure of a Digger Indian, 
which some enterprising mortal must have buried, un- 
earthed, and sold to the hoodwinked man, for genuine 
petrified aboriginal meat. 

Rainbow Falls, Grand Caverns, William's Canyon, 
Cave of the Winds and Cheyenne Mountain Drive all 
had their peculiar attractions. On Cheyenne Mountain 

282 



SIGHTS IN CRIPPLE CREEK. 

is the original grave of Helen Hunt Jackson, author of 
"Ramona." 

It was about midnight when, with a small lunch in an 
improvised knapsack and revolvers in our belts, Coon- 
skin and I began the ascent of Pike's Peak, the first at- 
tempt to do it having been so summarily defeated. By- 
I a. m. we were well up Engleman's Canyon and with 
the aid of a lantern we surveyed the wild and steep cog 
track with about the same pleasure one feels in descend- 
ing a deep mine with a lighted candle. Higher and 
higher as we rose toward the starlit heavens we found it 
more difficult to breathe and easier to freeze. At times 
the grade was so steep that we had to creep on our hands 
and knees to prevent sliding backward to Manitou. The 
so-called beautiful Lake Moraine looked disenchantingly 
black and icy, and the timber line, still far above us, 
seemed as elusive as a rainbow. We had to stop fre- 
quently to rest our knees and to breathe, for air up there 
was at a premium. Later on we built a fire of railroad 
ties and ate our lunch. 

By four o'clock we overtook others striving to make 
the climb — men, women and small boys, whose chief aim 
in life evidently was to climb Pike's Peak. Some of 
them had started twelve hours before; others had been 
twenty-four hours climbing seven miles, and from the 
questions they put to us were doubtless under the im- 
pression there was an error in the guide books and that 
they had already tramped fifty miles from Manitou. 

The sunrise effects from the Peak are marvelous, but 
LTncle Sol appeared to have as hard work in rising morn- 
ings as we travelers. The sunrise looked as uncertain as 
our arrival on the summit. Once, we tarried to speculate 
on our chances of reaching the opposite side of Manitou 
in time to witness the event, then resumed tramping and 

283 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

creeping, puffing and blowing and snorting, and venting 
our wrath on Mr. Pike for discovering the peak, and 
made the turn to find the sun as tardy as ever, with no 
apparent incHnation to rise. 

One old man we overtook told me he had been "nigh 
on to twenty year" climbing Pike's Peak, and hadn't 
climbed it yet. That gave me courage. I wouldn't back 
out. It looked as if there were only one more turn to 
make, when, about half way around, three shivering 
maidens sitting on a rock asked me most pathetically if 
I had seen any kindling wood about. My heart was 
touched ! I replied that I had not, but would try to find 
some. 

I built a fire, and the girls were real nice to me, and 
insisted that I share their cheese sandwiches. 

On arriving at the summit I was just in time to see the 
most dazzlingly beautiful sunrise to be witnessed on earth. 

Arriving on the board walk in front of the Summit 
House I saw Coonskin thawing in the sun, fast asleep. 
Inside the house a young man lay on a sofa in a swoon, 
for want of air. There is a golden opportunity for some 
enterprising man to transport barrels of air to an air- 
tight building on the Peak, and sell it to patrons for a 
dollar a pint. A hundred gallons could have been sold 
that morning — I would have bought fifty myself. 

Wandering aimlessly and weakly, as if from that tired 
feeling, about the house and rocky-looking grounds, were 
several dozen mountain-climbers, shaking hands with 
themselves for having seen the sunrise, or examining the 
crater of the extinct volcano, or discussing the mysteri- 
ous ingredients of their cofTee cups in the only restaurant, 
which small concoctions cost fifteen cents each. I 
haven't said what was in the cups; it was supposed to be 
coffee. I bought a cup, and forgetting that I had drunk 

284 



SIGHTS IN CRIPPLE CREEK. 

it, bought another, and still I didn't make out what it 
was. Then I purchased another, and after I had finished 
four cups began to have a suspicion of coffee. It cost 
me sixty cents. 

After resting an hour we started back to Manitou. It 
was two p. m. before the foot-sore Pod and his lung- 
sore valet managed to get to their hotel. In less than 
an hour both became rational, and agreed that the first 
of them to mention Pike's Peak should instantly be de- 
prived of breath. 

To those who boast of their ability to grow fat on 
beautiful scenery I heartily commend the trail through 
Ute Pass, Divide, Cripple Creek, South Park, Lead- 
ville and Aspen to Glenw^ood Springs, crossing Western 
and Independence Passes. First proceeding up Ute Can- 
yon along the banks of the turbulent stream and in the 
shadow of the towering cliffs, often in view and in hear- 
ing of the trains on the Colorado Midland, we passed the 
summer retreats of Cascade and Green Mountain Falls, 
at which places the tourists flocked from hotels, cottages 
and tents to talk with Pod and Mac A'Rony. 

Only a brief stop was made at Divide to enable me to 
replenish my larder; then we hustled on toward the fa- 
mous mining camp. 

Early every afternoon a thunder shower drenched 
our party. Once or twice the thunder in advance warned 
us so we could pitch tent and crawl under shelter. Thus 
our travels in that region were impeded. 

Three miles beyond Gillette we climbed to Altman, 
said to be the highest incorporated town in the United 
States, some 11,300 feet above the sea. It rests literally 
on the summit and hangs down over the mountain sides 
secure enough whenever and wherever there is a pros- 
pect hole with sufficient gold in it to serve the miners a 

28s 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

foothold and check their sHdIng further. The high alti- 
tude of the district makes it especially undesirable for 
women, causing nervous troubles. Even the male popu- 
lation are more or less excitable, and when prospectors 
think they have made a strike some of them run about 
like lunatics. 

From Altman we took a tortuous trail, threading Gold- 
field, Independence, Victor and Anaconda. The moun- 
tains about are honeycombed with prospect holes — or 
graves they might be properly called, for many of them 
contain buried hopes. From a distance they look like 
prairie-dog towns, but occasional shaft-houses and gal- 
lows-frames rise here and there to give character to the 
mining region, while several railroad and electric car 
lines wind about the hills and gulches. 

Many of the cabins in these towns are built of logs; the 
streets look to have been surveyed by cows rather than 
engineers. As a rule, there is no symmetry to the thor- 
oughfares — up hill and down hill, crooking and winding, 
crossing and converging, in a manner to puzzle a resi- 
dent of a year. The situation of most of the habitations 
seems to have been governed by the location of the 
claim of each house owner. This great camp got its 
name from two circumstances occurring when the local- 
ity w^as known for no other virtue than a grazing place 
for cattle. One day on the banks of the creek that trickled 
through the present site of Cripple Creek a man broke 
his leg, and the following day a cowboy was thrown 
from his bronco and had his arm broken. Some one, 
seeing both accidents, said: *T reckon we'd better call 
this place Cripple Creek." So the noted camp was chris- 
tened. 



286 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

BY MAC a'RONY. 

You do ill to teach the child such words ; he teaches him to 
kick, and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves; 
and to call horum ; — fye upon you ! — Merry Wives of Windsor. 

Frequently since crossing the Mississippi Pod had re- 
ceived letters from proud parents informing him that 
they had named their latest boy after him. At that time 
in Cripple Creek, several boys ranging from a day to six 
weeks old, whose destinies were thought to be promis- 
ing, were afflicted with my master's ponderous name. 

A little green-eyed Irish girl, five days old, was named 
Pythagorina Podina Mulgarry. The happy father called 
personally on Pod and asked him to act as godfather at 
the baptismal service, Sunday afternoon. The impres- 
sive ceremony took place at the cabin of Miss Pythago- 
rina, as the aged grandmother wished to witness it. Pod 
said he was somewhat embarrassed about attending, 
since he had forgotten almost all his Latin, but he ar- 
ranged with one of the pall bearers to give him nudges 
and kicks when it was expected of him to make a re- 
sponse, and so he got through fairly well — better than 
the kid did. He said the babe was an unruly child, and 
kicked so frantically when the priest took her in his arms 
that two flatirons were tied to its feet to keep them down. 
It was simply nervousness, because the high altitude af- 
fected the child's nerves. So when the priest was handed 
the tiny thing in swaddling clothes and held it over 

287 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the barrel that served as the font, the poor girl was 
frightened and squirmed, and suddenly slipped out of the 
priest's arms into the barrel and sank out of sight. 
There was great excitement and surprise because the 
flatirons didn't float, and the undertaker, or what you 
call 'em, overturned the barrel of water and set every- 
body afloat, drenching the sponsors and guests. 

Pod said the scene was without a parallel; he was 
soaked to his equator; the half-christened, half-drowned 
Pythagorina Podina was picked up from the flood with 
a tablespoon, and the ceremony finished; then she was 
rolled on the barrel to get all the water out of her, and 
put to bed with hot flatirons at her feet to prevent croup 
and mumps. Then the wake broke up. I don't believe 
the child understood a word that the priest said; Pod 
didn't. 

That night he got up a fine supper, and invited some 
old friends. He bought a big porterhouse steak, thick 
and tender, and personally broiled it on his patent fold- 
ing stove. Just when everything was on the table and 
the guests were finding stones and tin plates to sit on, 
Don, not having had a thing to eat for an hour, coolly 
pulled the hot steak of¥ the platter and dropped it on the 
ground. Pod didn't say anything, though, but just 
forked it on to the platter and scraped of¥ some dry 
grass and a sliver and a bug, and carved it up and gen- 
erously put it on the ladies' plates. The ladies looked 
at the dog, and then at Pod, not knowing which to 
thank, then feeling sensitive about accepting the best 
part of the steak, insisted upon Pod's having one of their 
pieces and Coonskin the other; and both men being 
kind and gallant accepted the compliment, and all fell 
to eating. But the guests didn't eat much. They said 
they had just had dinner. You could see plainly from 

288 



BABY GIRL NAMED FOR POD. 

their appetites that they were telling the truth. After 
supper Don feasted on the tougher parts of the steak, 
and we donks were fed the scraps of potatoes and bread 
and tin tomato and peach cans. When the banquet was 
over the guests went home. 

Pod devoted Monday morning to business, and took 
in a good stock of supplies, and after lunch we set out 
on the trail to Florisant, about twenty miles away. 
About six o'clock we went into camp on the margin of 
a famous petrified forest. Pod objected at first, because 
of the scarcity of fire-wood. 

''Lots of petrified wood chips lying around," I re- 
marked; "and they'll last. Ordinary wood burns up too 
fast." 

''Bright idea!" exclaimed Pod. And Coonskin went 
to work gathering petrified wood for the supper fire. 
"The only trouble will be in starting the fire," said Pod. 
"Just as soon as it's once going, it ought to burn 
smoothly enough — might pour coal oil on the chips. 
What do you say, Coonskin?" 

Coonskin's opinion didn't benefit Pod much. His 
hard-wood fire wasn't very satisfactory, but with some 
dry brush the men got the meal under way. Next morn- 
ing we visited the noted petrified stump, measuring up- 
wards of forty-five feet in circumference. Several saws 
were imbedded in it, for many futile attempts had been 
made to take off some slices for the Denver Exposition. 
It has been estimated by various ornithologists, botan- 
ists and entomologists that the stump is millions of years 
old. I think they were guessing at it, for I couldn't see 
the rings, and even if I had seen them with a telescope a 
fellow couldn't live long enough to count them. 

We journeyed until ten at night, stopping at Florisant 
only a few minutes to buy a crate of peaches. Several 

289 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

times I had a suspicion that we had been misdirected. 
When we came to the end of a narrow wood-road I 
was sure of it. We went into camp, and before break- 
fast a timberman called on us. 

"You kin trail through the timber to Pemberton," said 
he to Pod, "and then cut through to Fairplay, er you kin 
go back the way ye came." 

"What do you say?*' Pod inquired, turning to Coon- 
skin. 

"I think best to go through the woods," said the 
valet. 

So we were headed for the timber. Our tramp 
through the forest I cannot soon forget. Up and down 
the rocky heights, through thickets of quaking asp and 
pine, tangled roots and fallen trees, we climbed and 
panted and coughed and brayed for some four miles, when 
we stopped to rest and realized we were lost. Coonskin 
said he was an experienced woodman, and would blaze 
the trees so we would get out again. Wonderful! the 
amount of learning he had gleaned from dime novels. 
He lagged behind to do the blazing; and pretty soon I 
smelt smoke. The Professor snufifed. 

"Smells as if the woods were on fire somewhere," 
hinted Pod. 

"Look behind you; they are!" I exclaimed. And Pod 
caught that erudite valet-back-woodsman in the act of 
setting a tree on fire with oil and matches. Fortunately 
for us the wind wasn't blowing strong, but we had to 
change our course some, and hustle faster, for the blaz- 
ing trail chased us. Coonskin learned a new lesson, and 
turned down the corner of the page so he'd recollect it. 
After Pod had explained the meaning of the word "blaze" 
in this case, the fellow was more put out than the fire. 

At length we struck a trail which led to a couple of 

290 



BABY GIRL NAMED FOR POD. 

cabins in the canyon. A board sign informed us it was 
simply Turkey Creek. I couldn't see any turkeys, but 
there was good pasturage around. The hot trip through 
the timber made us all hungry. 

It was three o'clock when we donks were picketed 
and allowed to graze. Then Coonskin went fishing. He 
said he had seen some trout in the stream; by supper 
time he had caught a nice mess. Pod said he would 
fry the fish, and went at it so enthusiastically that he for- 
got to put the bag of corn meal back in its place. After 
the meal was over, he began to look around for the bag. 
It was nowhere to be found; I had eaten the corn meal 
and bag. It was comical how those two men puzzled 
their brains about that missing commodity. When 
Coonskin detected some meal stamped in the ground, Pod 
pointed at me and said, "That's the thief, there." 

Next morning, Coonskin was the first to return from 
fishing, and looked much excited. When Pod returned 
he told him he had seen huge bear tracks ; he was going 
bear-hunting. Pod laughed at him. 

"Now let me tell you," said the boy, "we aren't likely 
to get any big game on this trip if we are looking and 
gunning for it. That was my experience in the woods 
of Wisconsin. The men at the saw-mill said we should 
see bear in this forest, but where are they? It's my 
opinion if we loiter around this here canyon a day with- 
out guns we will see a bear pretty soon. A silvertip 
would be a boon to you, Prof; its skin would fetch 
fifty dollars or more. Let's look for bear." 

"What would you do if you saw a bear?" Pod asked. 

"Well, now leave that to me," said Coonskin. "In the 
first place, it would be worth a hairbreadth escape to see 
one wild; I've only seen bears in circuses, or traveling 
chained to Italians; in the second place, I can run. I've 

291 ' 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

plenty of medals for sprinting, but if I saw a real bear I 
could beat all records." 

Pod looked at me and I looked at Pod; I hadn't any- 
thing to say on the subject; it didn't interest me as much 
as it did Coonskin. Pod went fishing that afternoon 
with a gun, and took the whole arsenal along with him, 
including the axe. 

Somewhere about five o'clock Pod came into camp 
with a good mess of trout. After cleaning the fish, he 
took off his guns, and laid down on the grass, and won- 
dered if that crazy valet had run across any more bear 
tracks. He wasn't there long when, suddenly, I heard 
yells issuing from the canyon down stream round the 
bend. The shouting sounded nearer every second, and 
I soon distinguished Coonskin's voice. Pod got up from 
the ground excitedly. 

"Coonskin's in trouble, plain enough," said Pod aloud 
to himself, "I must run to his aid." So he started on a 
trot down stream to the bend, and then quickly turned, 
falling all over himself, and ran toward the cabins faster 
than I ever saw him run before or since. And imme- 
diately Coonskin came flying into view with the biggest 
bear at his heels I ever want to see. 

That sight paralyzed me; I couldn't get on to my feet 
for a minute or two, then I broke the rope and kited up 
the canyon a hundred yards, where behind a tree I 
waited to see the interesting finish. 



292 



CHAPTER XL. 



BY PYE POD. 



Who dared touch the wild bear's skin 

Ye slumbered on while life was in? — Scott. 

How fast a man can run when he knows he's got to 
win a race! There was one time in my life when 
"can't" was an obsolete word in my vocabulary. It was 
when that silvertip granted Coonskin's chief desire in 
the field of adventure. 

''Shoot him! Shoot him!" cried the angler, as he 
fairly flew past me, headed for the first cabin. 

But I had neither time nor gun to shoot; when I heard 
bruin at my heels I switched ofT to the left and ran three 
times around the second cabin before I realized the bear 
had taken a stronger fancy to my comrade. It seems he 
had chased Coonskin around the cabin several times, 
until the man dived in the door and head first out of the 
window. Bruin followed in, but remained. He smelled 
the fragrant peaches. 

Coonskin, however, under the impression that bruin 
was still after him, ran twice around the cabin before he 
climbed a tree. 

Meanwhile, I, having climbed a tree close to the cabin, 
descended to the cabin roof. I knew silvertips couldn't 
climb trees, so I felt safe. The sudden shuffle of my feet 
on the gravel-covered roof disturbed the peace of the 
present incumbent, and out he came, rose on his haunches 
and looked about to see what was up. I was immovable. 

293 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Back into the cabin went brother Bruin, and began to 
break up things, generally. 

Then followed a few moments of dreadful silence. Not 
a sound issued from Coonskin's tree; he was probably 
trying to recover his breath and reason. Night soon 
fell upon us; it gets dark early in the canyons, and the 
mercury falls fast. I was chilly, for I shivered fright- 
fully. The blankets and guns were on the ground just 
outside the cabin. 

"Let's flip a coin to see which of us goes down for a 
gun," suggested Coonskin from his tree. But I did not 
take him seriously. 

''Don't you wish you had taken the fish-line ofif your 
rod?" he added; ''you could fish up a blanket and keep 
from freezing." 

"By jingo!" I exclaimed, "I have my line, and I'll try 
it." 

At once I fashioned a fish-pole out of a pine bough, 
and after much patience secured the only blanket within 
reach. Then winding it around myself, I lay as snug as 
possible, but couldn't go to sleep. That was the longest 
night I ever experienced. How long we should be kept 
ofif the earth, was an unpleasant speculation. Once I 
called to Coonskin not to go to sleep and tumble out of 
the tree, but he answered that he was so stuck up with 
pitch he couldn't fall. 

Our hopes were low, when, suddenly, about seven 
o'clock, from the canyon below appeared a man in the 
rough garb of a mountaineer, with a rifle across his 
shoulder and a hunting knife in his belt. As he was 
about to pass I hailed him. 

The hunter stopped, looked my way, approached to 
within a few feet of the cabin, and said a cheery "Good 
morning." I responded in a mood still more cheery. 

294 



TREED BY A SILVERTIP BEAR. 

"What you doin' up there — smoking? Had breakfast, 
I reckon." 

"No, haven't cooked yet this morning," I returned. 

"Glad t' hear that — haven' et yet myself. Got 'nough 
to go round?" he asked, shifting a cud of tobacco from 
one side to the other. 

"Don't know about that," I said. "You'll have to ask 
the boss — he's inside." 

As the rugged looking huntsman approached the cabin 
door, I held my breath, but I rose to my feet when I ac- 
tually saw the hunter's hat rise on his uplifted hair as he 
looked into the cabin door. With the quickness and cool- 
ness that come to one habituated to solitary life in the 
wilds, he put his Sharp's rifle to his shoulder, aimed and 
fired. There was a second report, followed by a tre- 
mendous thud, and the sound of something within 
struggling for life and vengeance. The hunter had no 
sooner fired than he dodged, and stood ready for a sec- 
ond charge; but that was not needed. 

"Come down," he said to me with a grim smile. "I'm 
boss here now." 

I slid off the roof, and Coonskin, to the man's surprise, 
appeared from his lofty perch; then we introduced our- 
selves. While I thanked the hunter for his kind offices 
and welcomed him to breakfast, Coonskin began to pre- 
pare the meal. Our guest explained that he was a bee- 
hunter. 

"When the bear meets the bee-hunter searchin' for a 
bee tree, brother Bruin says, 'Ahem! Excuse me, but 
I'm workin' this 'ere side of the trail, you just take t'other 
side.' Then the bee-hunter says: 'Pardon, my friend, 
Mr. Bear, but I'm workin' both sides of this particular 
trail, just throw up your paws.' " 

The becyhunter chuckled over the practical joke played 

295 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

on him, and said as it came from a tenderfoot he'd take 
it in good part; but if it had been a backwoodsman that 
played such a game he'd settle with the bear and the 
man in the same fashion. His words and manner startled 
me. 

The bee-hunter rose from the log and drawing his 
knife, dropped on his knee, and began to skin the bear as 
if he thought he owned it. 

"You needn't bother about skinning it for us," I said, 
"we're quite satisfied that you killed it." 

The man eyed me. "This bear belongs to me, if ye 
want to know," he said. 

"How is it your bear?" Coonskin asked, when he came 
to announce breakfast. "You shot it, but in our cabin." 

"That don't make no difiference, and I don't intend 
arguing the question," came the positive retort; "I say 
he's mine — who says he hain't?" 

I suddenly felt a bee in my bonnet. "The 'ayes' have 
it," I said. 

That stopped the debate, but I could see blood in 
Coonskin's eye when he ushered us to breakfast. Be- 
fore we had finished, my nervy valet asked our guest 
if he played poker. "Ya-a-as, some," the hunter drawled. 
"If there's money in it, I'll jine ye in a game." 

What could Coonskin have in mind, to challenge this 
rough mountaineer to a game of cards? He had often 
boasted of his skill at poker. Now he cleared the table 
and brought forth the cards he had carried way from 
Iowa, and motioning the bee-hunter to a seat, the two 
cut for the deal. From my seat, beside Coonskin, I dis- 
covered a little round mirror hanging on the wall behind 
the hunter opposite; it was the one my valet had pur- 
chased in Denver. Where he sat he could see the hunt- 
er's hand reflected in the glass. I felt if he were detected 

296 




'Through thickets, tangled roots cvid fallen trees." 



TREED BY A SILVERTIP BEAR 

in this underhand game it would go ill with both of us; so 
put both revolvers in my belt, and kept mum. That was 
an interesting game. 

''Lend me some change," said Coonskin. I threw him 
my bag of silver. Then he added: 'Tod, you count out 
the matches here for chips and act as banker." So I 
was drawn into the game. The first few hands were very 
ordinary, and caused no excitement. But finally the 
bee-hunter, arched his eyebrows; I knew he must have a 
fine hand or a bluflf, in store for his tenderfoot opponent. 
He bet heavily, but Coonskin raised the ante every time. 
Suddenly what had been in Coonskin's mind all the time 
was revealed. "Lend me fifty dollars," said he to me, 
and to the bee-hunter added: "I'll lay this roll of bills 
against the bear skin, and call you." 

'T'U go ye," said the bee-hunter. When both men 
lay down their hands, I had taken down the mirror and 
hid it in my pocket. 

"Beaten by four jacks! I be d d!" the outraged 

mountaineer exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table 
and regarding his four ten-spots with grim disfavor. 
Coonskin grinned from ear to ear as he swept in the 
money. Said he, "Mac A'Rony, Cheese, Damfino and 
Skates — I swear by them every time. Whenever I get 
that hand I'm billed to win." 

"So yer travelin' on them jacks," remarked the de- 
feated partner. 

"No, not exactly," Coonskin returned as he rose from 
his seat. "The jacks I'm traveling with are out doors; 
these are their tin-types." 

The bee-hunter looked chagrined enough, but he took 
the thing as a matter of course, apparently never dream- 
ing that he had been actually buncoed by a boy tender- 
foot. Presently he rose, and shouldering his rifle, made 

297 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

his departure without thanking us for our hospitahty. I 
hoped sincerely he would find his bee tree, and harvest 
a rich reward. I told Coonskin he was a brick. He ac- 
cepted his winnings modestly, and fell to finishing the 
task of skinning the bear. It was a fine skin. After salt- 
ing it, and wrapping it in gunnysacks, I packed our lug- 
gage while Coonskin saddled the donkeys. 

Shortly after noon we reached the road that was al- 
ready familiar to us, and five hours later arrived in Flori- 
sant. 

It was sundown when we went into camp. I had lost 
three days, but I had been fully compensated by the 
pleasures of angling and bear-hunting. 

Next day we were off for Leadville in good season. 
My animals seemed to be in fine traveling form; by sun- 
set we arrived in South Park. It was Saturday. There 
wc enjoyed the hospitality of a deserted, floorless cabin, 
where, sheltered from the wind, we could eat without 
swallowing an inordinate amount of sand. Close by was 
a fine spring, so we resolved to remain until Sunday 
afternoon. We were awakened at dawn by a bevy of 
magpies perched on the tent; Coonskin was so annoyed 
that he crept to the door and shot the chief disturber, in 
spite of the bad luck promised him by a popular legend. 

South Park is one of three great preserves in Colorado. 
There once roamed buffalo, deer, elk, antelope and 
wolves, while on the mountains bordering the valley were 
(juantities of mountain sheep. A few deer, sheep and 
bear are said to be still found in that section. Coyotes 
are heard nightly, and the evening we trailed out of the 
Park a traveler with a prairie schooner said he had seen 
two gray wolves. 

Our afternoon trip through the Park was a painful 
cue. Mosquitoes attacked us from every quarter, and it 

298 



TREED BY A SILVERTIP BEAR. 

was mosquito netting, pennyroyal and kerosene alone 
that saved our lives. When we consider that Mosquito 
Pass, the highest pass of the Rockies, 13,700 feet, was 
named after a mosquito we may derive some idea of the 
size of the insect. 

It was late in the night, when, after brief stops at two 
sheep ranches run by Mexicans, and another at a small 
settlement, we entered the canyon. It required two days 
of hard climbing to cross Western Pass. The snow-capped 
peaks of the range looked grand and beautiful, and the 
noisy streams in the canyons leading from the summit 
on both sides w^ere stocked with trout. 

The morning we trailed out of the canyon into the 
Arkansas Valley was clear and lovely. After traveling 
some distance up the valley, the smoke of the Leadville 
smelters burst into view, and a mile beyond the city 
itself could be seen nestling against the towering moun- 
tains. 

This famous mining camp gave us royal welcome. The 
report in the papers that Pye Pod would lecture that 
evening drew an enthusiastic throng, applauding and 
crowding closely about the donkeys, all eager for the 
chromos that Coonskin sold while I talked. 

Next morning we crossed the valley and pitched camp 
on the banks of Twin Lake, two lovely sheets of water at 
the mouth of the canyon leading to Independence Pass. 

This pass is one of the loftiest of the Continental Di- 
vide — that snowy range from which the rivers of Western 
America flow east or west through undisputed domains. 
Trailing up, the ascent gradually became very precipitous 
and the trail a severe trial. Over this pass, climbed the 
overland stages and freighting wagons with their four 
and eight-horse teams. It was, in ante-railroad days, a 
popular route, and the now deserted cabins of Independ- 

299 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

ence once composed a lively mining camp. Although 
the trail was kept in good order, yet wagons and teams 
frequently toppled over the narrow trail, and mules, 
horses and passengers met their death on the rocks be- 
low. 

We men walked to relieve our animals and arrived at 
the summit at sundown. Looking backward, for six or 
seven miles the view surpassed in grandeur any scene of 
the kind I had ever viewed. The stream appeared to be 
spun from liquid fleece from the mountain sides, and 
tumbled and foamed over the rocks and fallen trees in 
its bed until it looked like a strand of wool in a hundred 
snarls. 

While resting, a heavy snow squall descended, and 
drove us on across the pass into the western canyon for 
shelter. This canyon surpassed in grandeur and size the 
other. Knowing our sure-footed steeds would keep the 
trail much better than we, Coonskin and I got in the 
saddle, but more than once I nearly went over Mac's 
head. 

When we had proceeded only a mile below the sum- 
mit, the trail became particularly narrow and rocky. To 
the right, protruded from the bank a great boulder, and 
to the left sloped a deep and sheer precipice, to which 
only the roots and stum.ps of trees could cling. Here 
my valet dismounted; I should have done likewise. Mac 
considered a moment whether or not to descend further, 
then made a sudden dive, shying from the declivity and 
striking the rock on our right, and was jarred off his feet, 
falling with me over the edge of the trail. 

Down and over we rolled toward the yawning gulf 
some forty feet before we caught on a stump and 
stopped. That was a dreadful moment for me. For a 
time I lay still, not daring to excite Mac. 

300 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Carefully I extricated myself from my perilous posi- 
tion, and held my donkey's head down till Coonskin got 
the ropes from Damfino's pack and came to my relief. 
In time the other three donkeys pulled Mac A'Rony up 
on to the trail. 

We pitched camp and Sunday morning continued 
down the trail, which soon presented difficulties still 
more discouraging. The numerous springs had necessi- 
tated corduroy roads often hundreds of feet in extent. 
But these had been so long in general disuse that the logs 
had rotted away in places. 

Frequently Coonskin and I dismounted and repaired 
the corduroy breaches, with fallen trees, thereby losing 
much time. By dark my outfit had made but three 
miles. In the darkness of evening we came to the empty 
cabins of old Independence, whose single inhabitant 
called to us from his doorway as we passed. 

At last we arrived at an old-time stage-house. It was 
now temporarily tenanted by fishermen from Aspen, who 
asked us to spend the night with them. I accepted; soon 
my animals were feeding on the fresh grass bordering a 
spring nearby, and Coonskin and I seated at the hot re- 
past our hosts had quickly provided. 

The house was large, with a high roof and a dirt floor. 
A great fire blazed in the center, lending comfort to the 
cozy quarters. The anglers had spread their blankets 
in one end of the shack, and we pitched our tent in the 
other and soon fell to sleep, while the fishermen likely 
continued to swap ''lies" till a late hour. The last re- 
marks I heard almost made me cry. 

"I don't think it would do for me to go to hell, pa," 
said the lad of the party. 

"Why?" queried the sire. 

301 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

''Oh," said the boy, "the light would hurt my eyes so, 
I couldn't sleep." 

Getting an early morning start, we trailed down and 
out of the long canyon into Roaring Fork Valley, and at 
four o'clock arrived in Aspen, a famous silver camp of 
early days. A crowd soon gathered, and I had no sooner 
announced a street lecture for that evening than the news 
began to spread all over town. Here supplies must be 
bought, some business transacted under my advertising 
contract, and Mac shod. For the first time that jackass 
kicked the blacksmith. When I reprimanded him, he 
claimed the man had pounded a nail in his hoof almost 
to the knee, and added, for the smith's benefit, ''Shoe an 
ass with ass's shoes, but set them with horse sense." 
Which I thought sound philosophy. 

At the appointed hour and place for my lecture the 
street was choked with an eager audience. Coonskin 
had been instructed to have the donkey there, saddled 
and packed, by eight sharp. They failed to appear. So 
impetuous and enthusiastic were the crowding, cheering 
citizens that I mounted a block and began to talk. Sud- 
denly, I was interrupted by a shout, "The donkeys are 
coming," and at once the crowd became so hilarious that 
I had to cease speaking till my outfit arrived. "Mac 
A'Rony! — Mac A'Rony! — Damfino! — Cheese!" echoed 
and re-echoed, as a number of boys ran to meet the 
donks. It occurred to me that Coonskin might soon 
have his hands full, so I hastened to his side. But, ere I 
arrived my handsome Colt's revolver was stolen from its 
holster, buckled to Mac's saddle horn. As Coonskin 
was riding Cheese and trailing the others he could not 
guard against the theft, but I blamed him for not heed- 
ing my instructions always to leave the guns at my head- 

302 



TREED BY A SILVERTIP BEAR. 

quarters. It was the only article lost by theft on 
my journey. The four marshals on duty hoped to recover 
the revolver, and forward it to me, but I never received it. 

When I had finished my lecture. Judge S passed 

his hat and handed me a liberal collection. And as my 
outfit trailed out of town toward Roaring Fork, a young 
man wheeled up with us and gave me a silver nugget 
scarf pin. In Aspen, as in Leadville, I disposed of many 
photos. 

It was a fine evening. I was promised a smooth trail 
through to Glenwood Springs. We were to travel ten 
miles that night, and hence would need to sleep late next 
day. So I advised Coonskin to set the alarm clock, just 
purchased, for ten a. m. 



303 



CHAPTER XLI. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



And riding down the bank, he spurred into the water. — The 
Fair God. 

When, at the conclusion of Pod's Aspen lecture, he 
gave the signal for our outfit to ''move on," I breathed 
a sigh of relief. I abhor crowds; I despise shoemakers. 
They say that an ingrown nail is painful; an inpounded 
nail is worse. Pod said he wouldn't care if I had lock- 
jaw; for then I'd have to keep my mouth shut. 

''You ordered Bridget to call us at eight in the morn- 
ing, didn't you?" Pod asked of his valet, when we were 
a mile out of town. 

"I did that," Coonskin replied. Who could Bridget 
be? Surely the turtle. Bill, hadn't changed his name. 
I'd hate to have him pull me out of bed. 

"Have the men got a woman stowed away in their 
luggage?" queried Cheese; "I hear 'em talking of some 
biddy." 

"It's scandalous!" exclaimed Miss Damfino, and Miss 
Skates said she thought so, too. These words were 
hardly spoken when, about eight o'clock, we were stroll- 
ing peacefully down the trail along the high bank of 
Roaring Fork River in the darkness, something with a 
shrill voice suddenly began to scream and kick up a ter- 
rible racket in one of my saddle bags, electrifying my 
whole being. Was Pod bewitched? Or was some de- 
mon upon me? I asked both questions at once, and not 

304 



NEARLY DROWNED IN THE ROCKIES. 

waiting for an answer, ran through the darkness bhnd 
with terror. Ears back, tail out straight, and legs spin- 
ning, I failed to see the trail, or hear my master's 
"Whoas !" I only thought the devil was after me, and 
flew through the air like a meteor. Soon the trail turned 
to the right, but I kept on straight ahead, and suddenly 
tumbled, tail over ears, down the steep bank into the 
rushing river, my master still holding on to reins and 
saddle horn. How deep I dived I can't say. The damp- 
ness poured into my ears and mouth and drowned my 
thoughts, and just when I had begun to think of my past 
life, I came to the surface with that demon still yelling 
and clinging to the saddle or to Pod. Then a terrific 
jerk on my bit brought me to my senses, and I swam 
to the nearest shore. It was a long, hard pull. Pod 
clung to me as though I were a life buoy, and when I 
climbed on to the bank out of breath, the screaming de- 
mon chased me half way up to the trail. 

Pod's mouth was a flame of fire, but aimed more at 
Coonskin than at me. Reckon he thought me too wet 
to burn. 

The whole outfit, including dog and turtle, awaited us 
with bated breath. 

''We've found out who Bridget is," said Cheese, laugh- 
ing. 

"To the devil with Bridget!" I retorted. ''What in the 
name of Balaam was that after us?" 

"The new alarm clock, you fool," replied Cheese. 

I was too full for utterance — too full of water. The 
Professor was a sight, even in the darkness. Never 
saw him so mad. 

"Didn't you know that if at six o'clock you set the 
alarm for eight in the morning, it would ring at eight in 

305 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the evening?" he vociferated, wildly gesticulating at his 
scared and speechless attendant. 

Cautiously through the darkness we proceeded for a 
couple of miles, Pod walking to prevent taking cold, he 
said. Then we were steered to an old cedar stump, where 
we camped. Bridget's alarming voice had made a fearful 
impression upon me. Several times on the way to camp 
I imagined a demon was after me, and shied into the 
sage. Why, I've seen roosters and hens chase all over a 
half acre lot and jump a fence after losing their heads, 
simply from nervousness. 

The cedar stump was set ablaze, and as soon as Pod 
had pitched the tent, he began walking around it dressed 
in his only suit of clothes, trying to get thoroughly dry. 
He was not in a good mood to talk with, so I kept aloof. 

Next morning the valley and the mountains hemming 
it in revealed a beautiful and bountiful nature. Al- 
though alfalfa seemed to be the chief crop, fields of 
wheat and oats waved in the breeze. It was August; the 
harvest had hardly begun. The vendure on the moun- 
tains was not less lavish in its rare autumnal tintings 
than were the internal colorings of the hills with metals 
• — copper, lead, silver and gold. Now the trail would 
hug the river so closely I could hear the roaring flood, 
and again the current would sink beyond reach of ear 
or eye, suddenly to burst upon us later. 

The sun grew hotter with every hour's travel; the trail 
became more dusty; the prickly sage looked more 
browned and withered. 

One evening, under the screen of darkness, the men 
pitched camp conveniently near to an alfalfa field, hay- 
stack, and potato cellar. The sage, while much seared 
by the sun, was yet too young and green to burn, so 
when Coonskin dropped two large boards in front of the 

306 



NEARLY DROWNED IN THE ROCKIES. 

tent Pod was elated. The fellow said he had unroofed 
a tater cellar. In view of the shady deed, Pod kindled 
the fire on the shady side of the tent and proceeded to 
cook the supper. We hadn't time to make our escape 
next morning before we heard the rattle of a wagon 
approaching. Presently a team of horses, driven by a 
short, morose-looking, black-whiskered farmer, stopped 
right in front of camp. Instinct told me he was the 
owner of the property we had "squatted on" and in- 
tended to make trouble. Pod was seldom embarrassed, 
but when so he appealed to Coonskin's wit and gall for 
the desired relief. The man climbed out of the wagon 
and walked toward the tent, until he saw Don, and 
stopped short. 

Coonskin winked slyly at Pod and me under his hat- 
brim, and said to our caller, ''Walk right in, sir, and 
make yourself miserable; the dog won't hurt you;" then 
Pod said a ''Good morning" sweet and juicy. The 
stranger's sharp eyes surveyed the remaining board and 
the cremation ashes of the departed, and nodded sourly. 

I was now saddled, and Coonskin was buckling on his 
belt with revolvers and hunting knife. Said he to our 
guest, "This traveling round the world on a bet ain't 
what it's cracked up to be." 

"Reckon not," returned the stranger. And he asked, 
"Big bet." 

"N-o-o, only fifteen thousand dollars." 

The stranger grunted, as he mentally appraised the 
value of his lumber, and then regarded the men as if he 
wanted to put a price on their heads. 

"Wouldn't been so bad," Coonskin resumed, "If one 
of our original party hadn't got scalped by Esquimaux 
when crossing the Arabian Desert." 

"I want ter know!" the stranger exclaimed. "How 

307 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

did it happen?" As he spoke, he sat down near the board 
and whittled a stick, now and then eyeing Coonskin with 
overdue interest. 

"Well, you see," the valet began, "we were trailing on 
the desert at night, because the sun in India is so hot, 
when he suddenly hailed what we took to be a caravan. 
But instead of one outfit, there were three, all of 'em 
enemies of each and tother — Hottentots, Spaniards, and 
Solomon Islanders, all at lagerheads. Say, weren't we 
in a nice mess!" 

" 'Pears so," the farmer ejaculated, with wrapt phiz. 

"At once all tried to capture us," Coonskin con- 
tinued, "but pretty soon fell to fighting among them- 
selves ; and that'e how we escaped. But Jack got shot." 
Coonskin looked as if he had lost his last friend. 

"Poor Jack," muttered Prof., shaking his head sor- 
rowfully. 

I saw plainly the story had touched the stranger's 
heart. Purty sad, wasn't it boys?" he commented. 
"Didn't ye have no shootin' irons along?" he asked. 
Should say we did — a whole battery," said the valet. 
We shot several of the black demons (here waxing ex- 
cited as he recalled the harrowing spectacle), but what 
was a thousand of them compared with one Jack!" And 
Coonskin tickled me in the ribs. 

"Ner a hundred Jacks," returned the farmer absent- 
mindedly, and looking thoughtful. Then Pod said it 
was time to be going, and offered to pay the farmer for 
the board he had much enjoyed; but the latter said he 
"didn't want no pay," and, after offering Pod and Coon- 
skin his plug of tobacco, clambered into his wagon and 
drove off. 

Then we made for Glenwood Springs. 



308 






CHAPTER XLII. 

BY PYE POD. 

You may nail it on the pailing as a mighty risky plan 
To set your judgment on the clothes that cover up a man; 
It's a risky piece of business, for you'll often come across 
A fifty-dollar saddle on a twenty-dollar hoss. — Old Sazv. 

We reached Glenwood Springs the week of the an- 
nual races, and I piloted my outfit to a prominent corner 
in town. At once a crowd gathered. After making a 
few remarks about my trip and promising a lecture be- 
fore leaving town, I inquired for the leading hotel. 

"The Colorado," answered a chorus. Then a man in 
shirtsleeves, sombrero, and high boots edged to my 
side, and whispered, "Prof, there's a dollar house 
t'other end of town. The tax is five dollars a day at the 
Colorado." 

"How much can I make at the dollar house?" I asked. 

My informant shrank into his clothes. "I don't be- 
lieve you can make your salt," he answered. 

I left my outfit, and rode Mac to the post office. I 
had not been indoors long before I heard loud cheers 
and laughter in the street. I rushed out, thinking some- 
body was making sport with my donkey, and was sur- 
prised to see Don leading by the reins that incorrigible 
flirt, Mac A'Rony, up-street toward the post office. He 
had strolled to the next corner to make the acquaintance 
of a prepossessing donk of the opposite sex, and my 
faithful dog, conscious of his responsibiUties, was doing 
his duty. 

309 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

The town is situated on the east bank of the Grand 
River; across, some distance from the water, stands the 
Hotel Colorado. An iron bridge spans the stream, and 
across it I led my caravan to the hotel in time for din- 
ner. As I dismounted, the guests on the veranda hur- 
ried to the raiHng and whispered to one another; I paid 
no heed, but, giving my valet instructions to care for 
my animals, hurried in. The clerk extended his hand in 
greeting. 

"Just on time," said he. ''Lunch is awaiting you." 

I shall never forget the sensation I caused when I 
entered the dining room. A sweeping glance detected 
every eye upon me. I sat at the nearest table opposite 
two dudes who almost choked to death when I reached 
for the menu card. Even the pretty waitresses stopped as 
if struck. One of the poor girls dropped a tray of dishes. 
Every countenance said plainly, ''How did it drift in?" 
Several pretty girls at the next table, seasonably gowned 
in silks and muslins, whispered and giggled audibly. 

Presently the dudes considered there wasn't room for 
us three at the table, and changed their seats so pre- 
cipitately that one of them stumbled over the legs of his 
chair and broke his fall by first breaking a cup. As they 
now faced the pretty girls, their prospect was more in- 
viting, if not picturesque. My hair and beard were long, 
one of my coat-sleeves threatened to come off with the 
slightest cough or sneeze; I looked like one who had 
experienced hardship and rough traveling. 

This is a treat, I thought, as I divided my interest be- 
tween the diners opposite and my menu card. I was 
famished. The waitresses kept aloof from me. 

Suddenly my ear caught the words spoken by one of 
the dudes, "He acts as if he owned the dining room, and 
had first bid on the hotel." I smiled. Just then I felt a 

310 



DONKEY SHOOTS THE CHUTES. 

hand on my shoulder, and recognized the head-waiter, 
who, a moment before, had left the room probably to see 
the hotel clerk. He was all smiles, as he asked if I was 
being- waited upon. I said I was not. 

*'I-I-I beg your humble pardon," he stammered, and 
off he danced. The next minute a half dozen waitresses 
were assailing me for my order. Finally I was lavishly 
served; then there was dissatisfaction at the next table. 
The dudes began to complain because that "hobo" re- 
ceived every attention while they were neglected. 

Having received an invitation to the races, I did not 
tarry longer than necessary. I was sure things would be 
different when I returned for dinner. And such a change 
as there was! I was assigned to a table at which was a 
bevy of girls and two or three gentlemen. My seat had 
evidently been reserved for me by request. I didn't have 
to wait for the waitresses to pass me things, the girls did 
that. I was treated like a hero, and almost embarrassed 
with attentions. When I retired to dress for the ball given 
in my honor by the young women of Glenwood, I fell in 
a chair and laughed till my sides ached. What fun the 
study of human nature does afford ! 

The evening paper stated that the famous donkey trav- 
eler, Professor Pythagoras Pod would be the guest of 
the evening, and was expected to appear in traveling 
clothes, spurs, and belt guns. And so I attired myself, 
arriving at the hall at eight-thirty, and was at once in- 
troduced to one and all of the fair gathering. I danced 
myself completely out. When supper was announced I 
was glad. Had I traveled thirty miles that day I couldn't 
have felt more fatigued. It was almost eleven o'clock 
when I set out for my hotel. 

One of the attractions at the Colorado is the great out- 
of-doors natatorium, between the river and the hotel. I 

311 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

had hardly crossed the bridge when I heard Mac's bray 
issuing from that quarter. The darkness and thick 
fohage obscured the view, but I heard splashing of water, 
and laughter, and another wild bray, and concluded some 
mischief was on the boards among the college students 
who were guests of the hotel. Quickening my pace, I 
stole through the shrubbery to the reservoir, and beheld 
a sight to cause me fright. There was a high chute be- 
side the natatorium, and a staircase for the bathers to 
climb to the top *'to shoot the chutes." There, almost 
at the top of the stairs, was my misused donkey, being 
carried to the source of the water raceway by several 
young men, the donkey braying and kicking frantically, 
the men struggling in the throes of smothered laughter 
as well as with their asinine burden. By the time I had 
collected my senses, Mac was deposited on the platform. 

"Heigh, there!" I yelled at the top of my voice. "Drop 
that donkey, you ruffians!" They dropped him. And 
down he came, tobogganing over the slippery, watery 
chute, over and over, and landing in the pond, flat on his 
back. It didn't take long for Mac to finish his bath. 
When he rose to the surface he snorted and brayed 
louder than ever, and in swimming about to find a place 
he could climb out he chased every bather on to land. 
One of the men got a rope, and, several others assisting, 
pulled the frightened animal out. Without stopping to 
discuss the afifair, I led Mac to his corral. 

The following morning a committee persuaded me to 
deliver a lecture to the guests of the hotel. A notice was 
posted, announcing Pod's lecture to be delivered at 2 p. m. 
on the broad veranda in front of the hotel office. 

I talked in my happiest vein. The interest manifested 
by my fair auditors would have inspired any lecturer. 

I concluded with these words: "It is very gratifying 

312 




tl 





'And floated on Salt Lake." 




"Skull J'allcy desert; zee stopped to feed and rest. 



DONKEY SHOOTS THE CHUTES. 

for me to know so many are interested in Mac A'Rony's 
welfare. I hope to take him through with me to the 
Pacific. I do not like it to appear that I, while a guest 
of the hotel, am taking undue advantage of its privileges, 
but if there are any among you who desire a souvenir of 
our novel trip I have a few pictures which may be pro- 
cured at twenty-five cents each. I now formally bid you 
all adieu." 

The souvenirs went like hot cakes. Presently a sweet 
girl who had purchased three pictures, with beaming eyes 
and a winsome smile, asked, "Oh, Mr. Pod, won't you 
please put your autograph on these photos?'* 

''Certainly," I replied, *'but each signature will cost 
twenty-five cents extra." I said it, just to see how 
would take. 

"Of course, I'll be glad to pay for the autographs,'* the 
maid returned, and handed me the photos to sign. And 
I was kept busy signing pictures until my hand ached. 

My last afternoon in Glenwood was a busy one. I de- 
cided to heed the admonitions of many Westerners I had 
met, to avoid the Green River desert, a barren waste of 
shifting sands, utterly devoid of water, stretching a hun- 
dred and thirty miles and more, and, instead, to trail 
northwesterly via Meeker, White River, and the Ute 
Reservation. On the Meeker route I was promised fair 
grazing and ample water supply every twenty or thirty 
miles of the distance to the Mormon City. 

It was five in the p. m. when Coonskin brought 
my caravan to the hotel, and saluting me, said, "Pro- 
fessor, your donkeys are ready and packed for the jour- 
ney." The guests of the hotel, with few exceptions, were 
assembled to witness the start, and my dog in apprecia- 
tion of the compliment strode grandly among the ladies 

313 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

and kissed their hands, and I beHeve bade every one an 
affectionate farewell. 

I thought this a good time, for once on my trip, to put 
on stylish "airs." I had never called upon Coonskin to 
exercise the duties of a valet, in the strictest sense. As 
soon as he buckled the guns on the saddles, I dropped 
my ragged canvas leggings at his feet, put forth a foot, 
and gave him a significant look. Immediately the gal- 
lant "Sancho" knelt down on one knee and proceeded to 
lace the leggings on me, creating much amusement. I 
then made a • short farewell address, got into Mac 
A'Rony's saddle, and gave the word to start. Such a 
cheer as arose from the ladies that lined the veranda! 
ril bet there wasn't one who would have missed the 
event for a five dollar note. 

Hugging the Grand River (the only hugging I had 
done in that section) until after dark, we trailed through 
the sage until ten o'clock, when, discovering a fair graz- 
ing place, I ordered camp. 

My donkeys had just rested two days, so next day, the 
28th day of August, I made them trail fast and far, in 
spite of the heat. It was five o'clock when we pitched 
camp near the Scott Ranch. 

I had observed a cow and several hens about the 
ranch. If I couldn't get milk, I might still obtain fresh 
eggs, and vice versa. Not waiting to unpack for a can, 
I set out for the house and knocked at the back door. 

''Come in," called a female voice. 

I entered the kitchen with hat in hand and politely 
said, "How to do?" The sober-faced housewife did not 
pause in her duties as she welcomed me to be seated. 

"I came to purchase some milk and eggs," I said pres- 
ently. 

'Ain't got no eggs er milk to spare jest now," she 

314 



a 



DONKEY SHOOTS THE CHUTES. 

replied; "cows all dried up." My face reflected my dis- 
appointment. 

"Are all your hens dry also?" I asked, as the woman 
deluged a big white cochin with a pan of dish-water. 

"That one ain't," she returned, smiling at her play on 
a word and a hen. The incident, trifling as it was, served 
to break the "ice." I introduced myself and explained 
my journey; the woman was interested; she had read 
about me. She told me to make myself "at home," and, 
admitting that one cow still gave milk and she could 
spare me a little, she went to the creamery. When she 
handed me a pail of milk, I offered to pay for it, and 
persuaded her to sell me a loaf of bread. But I had 
hardly started for camp with my precious purchases than 
I was surrounded by a swarm of yellow-jackets which 
proceeded to alight on the rim of the pail and my 
hand. I dropped the milk instantly, if not sooner. The 
woman's exclamation of indignation embarrassed me. I 
explained and apologized, while my kind "hostess" tried 
to convince me of the docility of those yellow-jackets; 
from her account one might suppose they were merely a 
dwarf species of canary birds. But finally she forgave 
my indiscretion, refilled the pail, and handing it to me, 
told me the insects were perfectly harmless, and were not 
known to sting anybody, unless they were harmed. I 
thanked the woman for her exceptional generosity and 
rare treatise on "insectology" and again started for my 
tent, resolved to preserve that milk at any cost. But I 
soon wavered from my resolve; the pail wavered, too. I 
couldn't change it from one hand to the other fast 
enough to elude those docile yellow-jackets. Then I hit 
upon a new idea; it looked practical enough. I spilled 
some milk on the ground, and after weaning many hor- 

315 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

nets from the pail, I lifted the latter, covered it with my 
hat, and made for camp. 

Now once in a while a babe is found hard to wean; 
the same may be said of a yellow-jacket. One buzzing 
fellow, doubtless young and feeble, and being tired from 
long flight, sat on my bald pate to rest, there to die a 
violent death. On that spot, although his remains were 
removed, was soon reared a monumental mound, sacred 
to his memory. I yelled before I remembered it was not 
manly to do such a thing, and the good madam hasten- 
ing to my aid, if not relief, carried the pail of milk to my 
tent, also bringing with her a can of jam. Her kind, for- 
giving disposition mentally paralyzed me. My own un- 
precedented conduct almost made me hang my sore head 
with shame. 

We men dined on bread and milk, and at seven o'clock 
struck out for Meeker. We had passed through the vil- 
lage of Newcastle when some fifteen miles from the 
Springs; and there were invited into a peach orchard 
to delight our palates with some delicious fruit, but no 
other village did we thread on our route to White River. 

The last twenty miles of the journey led us across a 
series of divides, mesas or benches, variously called, 
and between these miniature watersheds trickled occa- 
sional rivulets which either lost themselves in the 
parched soil, or struggled on till they joined with a 
larger stream to reach a river. As the tired eye wanders 
over this sun-scorched wilderness, strewn with what ap- 
pears to be volcanic matter, he imagines he sees on the 
black, rock-strewn butes the craters of long-extinct 
volcanos, which the ravages of time and the elements 
have almost leveled. And over these charred piles and 
the intervening plains of white and yellow sage one 
sometimes sees a solitary horse or steer standing be- 

316 



DONKEY SHOOTS THE CHUTES. 

wildered, as if before impending doom, or else trending 
by animal instinct some tortuous, obscured trail to a 
hidden spring. 

Meeker takes its name from a family, massacred by the 
Indians in the 70's. Four or five hundred inhabitants to- 
day compose this quiet and now law-abiding community, 
whose chief pursuits appear to be the pursuit of wild 
steers, horses, fish and game. White River flows past the 
town on its picturesque way to the Grand, the latter fur- 
ther on joining forces with the Green to form the Col- 
orado. 

The hills about Meeker abound with large game — 
mountain lions, bear, bobcats, and, when the snow comes, 
deer and elk. I was informed from authentic sources 
that in early winter the deer are driven by the snow down 
the river in to Grand Junction valley in such numbers 
that ranchmen have had to stand guard over haystacks 
with guns and pitchforks. One woman told me with 
modest candor that she had actually seen her husband 
catch and hold a deer in his arms. 

After leaving Meeker the scenic views from the trail 
down and along White River for seventy miles are mag- 
nificent and imposing. Rising sheer and bold from the 
west bank of this deep stream, is a lofty ridge of brown 
and barren mountains, whose mural crests of red and 
yellow sandstone and limestone formed in my imagina- 
tion the walls and watch-towers of castles of a prehis- 
toric race, while the placid river at their base appeared 
to be a mighty moat to protect the towering battlements 
from menacing foe. 

White River City lies some twenty miles south of 
Meeker. It has great possibilities. If another house 
were erected there, and it domiciled as many people as 
the one habitation then standing did, the population of 

317 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the place would be increased lOO per cent. Even a part 
of that house was converted into a post office and a gen- 
eral store. About twenty-five miles from White River 
City is Angora, another town containing a single house. 
We arrived at sunset. The proprietor of this goat ranch 
invited me to pitch camp on his meadow lot, where my 
animals could find some feed, and treated me to a leg of 
goat. He possessed a herd of about two hundred Angoras, 
and derived his chief livelihood from their hair, hides, and 
''mutton," as he called it. I found the meat sweet and 
tender; it was hard to distinguish it from lamb; possibly 
because I had forgotten how lamb tasted. My host 
visited my camp-fire and entertained me with many inter- 
esting tales of adventure. 

Occasional gardens and fields of alfalfa are seen on the 
east bank, all due to irrigation. Great water-wheels, 
turned by the river current, raise cans of water ten feet 
and more and empty them in troughs, so conveying the 
water to ditches. 

Ranchmen had cautioned me to give Rangely, the 
next settlement, a "wide berth." I was told it was a den 
of outlaws and desperate cowboys, who lived by ''rust- 
ling" cattle and rebranding them, hunting mavericks, 
(unbranded calves) and following other nefarious pur- 
suits. Instead of frightening me away, these accounts 
interested me. 

At four in the afternoon we came to a trail branching 
and leading to a large log house a half mile away. That 
was Rangely ; and we headed for it. 



318 



CHAPTER XLIII. 



BY MAC A RONY. 

I'll say of it 
It tutors nature : artificial strife 
Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 

— Timon of Athens. 

Pod was always looking for trouble. The fellow who 
courts trouble finds it sooner or later. I brayed myself 
hoarse trying to persuade my reckless master to give 
Rangely a wide berth. He couldn't think of it. He was 
anxious to meet real wild-and-woolly-west cowboys of 
the old-time style; he didn't fear the worst of 'em. 

''Hit the trail, there, Mac," he said, spurring me to- 
ward the hotbed of cowboy rascality. Arriving at 
the house-saloon-store-city-hall-business-headquarters of 
Rangely, the dozen rough-looking men lounging about 
swaggered toward us, pleased-like and curious. 

"Prospectin'?" one inquired. 

"N-o-o-o," Pod drawled; "just traveling." That was 
the time in Pod's life when he ought to have lied. Then 
he explained where he was from, and where he was 
bound, but did not say that he was a darn fool. The 
cowboys grunted, or nodded, or smiled, some winked to 
each other, and one of 'em nudged another in the ribs; 
everything they did had a deep meaning. I began to 
tremble for Pod. Would they shoot at his heels and make 
him dance? Or make him ride a bucking bronco? Or 
what? 

3T9 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

"Better feed yer jacks, Mister," said one; "ye'll find 
grain in th' shed yender." Pod seemed to be as de- 
lighted as we donks. 

"The Prof is going to catch it soon," Cheese observed. 

"Serve him right," added Damfino. 

Coonskin left us to feed and walked to the house with 
Pod. Soon afterward they returned with a cowboy, who 
said I had a good shape, asked my weight, and inquired 
if I was sound in body and mind; then he questioned 
Coonskin. 

"What did you do fer yer salt 'fore ye jined th' outfit?" 

"I was night porter in a hotel," was the reply. 

"What was ye doin' 'fore that?" 

"Railroading some." 

"And 'fore that?" 

"Painting." 

"Paintin' what?" 

"Church steeples." 

"Golly! yer jest th' man we're lookin' fer." 

Coonskin didn't quite understand them, but he did 
later. 

"Bridle this 'ere jack," said the cowboy, meaning me. 
Coonskin bridled me and rode to the joint. I didn't 
think anything would happen to me. Several more cow- 
boys had just come in from the range, and soon every 
man of the gang was busy. I now noticed one fellow 
mixing red paint; three or four were making two lad- 
ders; another one appeared with an armful of blankets; 
and another with ropes, and presently a cowboy climbed 
one of the ladders to the roof. Something was doing, 
sure. Pod seemed interested, but didn't say anything. 
Coonskin looked as if he saw his finish. I giggled. 

Suddenly came a surprise. One cowboy wrapped the 
blankets round my body, while another bound them on 

320 



PAINT SIGN WITH DONK'S TAIL. 

with lariats; another trimmed my tail with a pair of 
sheepshears. Then ropes were fastened to my body and 
the other ends thrown to the men on the roof. Next the 
ropes were slung round the two chimneys at both ends 
of the roof, and thrown to the gang below. At once the 
cowboys grabbed hold and pulled, and I rose in the air, 
until my head bunked against the eaves. There I dangled- 
and swung and kicked and brayed. Never was so scared 
in all my life. Splinters flew as I kicked holes in the 
house, and knocked ofif a section of the eaves. The cow- 
boys howled, they thought it so funny. But the real cir- 
cus began when Pod was commanded to mount a ladder 
with a pail of red paint, and using my tail for a brush, 
paint the name " R A N G E L Y " on that house. Coon- 
skin was made to climb the other ladder with another 
pail of paint, and, he being a professional painter, with a 
real paint brush go over Pod's lettering to make a decent 
job of it. 

Well, I had seen Pod mad, but never as mad as he was 
then. He grabbed my tail and started to paint a big let- 
ter R, when I up and kicked the pail out of his hands 
and sent red paint flying all over half the cowboys; not 
satisfied with this, I put a few more holes in the house, 
and finally hit the ladder and spilled Pod on the ground. 
The cowboys thought that was fun, too; some were so 
tickled they fired of¥ their revolvers. Here Coonskin 
was told to divide his paint with Pod, and the painting 
was continued on the letter A. 

The Prof worked as well as he could with such a nerv- 
ous paint brush, now and then dodging my heels. I 
admit I didn't know what I was doing, when suddenly 
I struck my master in the stomach, and made him get 
down from the ladder. But the sign had to be finished. 
Up the ladder again Pod climbed like a man, the cow- 

321 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

boys pulled on the ropes, dragging me along so that my 
tail could be brought to where the next letter should be. 
Then Pod started on the fourth letter, G. By this time 
the men were tugging on the ropes to keep me in posi- 
tion for the painter's convenience. Finally the men 
backed from the house and pulled me away from its side, 
and Pod turned me about till I hung the other end to, 
and began the fifth letter, E. 

Now I could see the sign. It was up hill. I knew it 
wouldn't suit those cowboys, and I expected it would 
have to be painted over. It wasn't Pod's fault, it wasn't 
mine. As I was gradually pulled along the eaves the 
higher I was raised, because there was no pulley on the 
rope. But now that I was turned about, I was swung 
back some, and the E had to be painted below the level 
of the first four letters. L and Y followed each other 
up hill, until, just as the job was finished, I hit the pail a 
crack with my right foot and sprinkled two more cow- 
boys. The crowd made sport of them, and I think, after 
all, those cowboys fared worse than we three painters. 
Then I was lowered to the earth. 

To my surprise, the cowboys liked the sign immensely. 
One pronounced it artistic, another said it was odd and 
people would notice it, and several agreed that it was the 
best job of its kind they ever saw. Pod didn't seem to be 
tickled over this flattery, but Coonskin was puffed up 
with pride, and when one fellow told him he ought to 
have stuck to painting, he acknowledged that he should 
have done so. 

When the two started down the ladders the cowboys 
called: "Hold on there, we want a speech." So the 
Prof made a speech. Both men were then escorted in- 
doors and the barkeeper mixed a high-ball in a pail and 
sent it out to me. I was ''loony" for hours afterwards. 

322 



PAINT SIGN WITH DONK'S TAIL. 

I never want another experience like that. Pod said 
afterward it was his first and last painting. He thought 
the cowboys might have shot a pipe out of his mouth, 
but he hadn't thought they could condescend to such a 
low trick as to make him paint a sign with his donkey's 
tail. The cowboys wanted us to spend the night with 
them, but Pod replied that he couldn't tarry, but he said 
he was much obliged for all their courtesies. About dark 
we said good-bye, and pretending we would travel ten 
miles that evening, pitched camp near a bridge crossing 
White River, one or two miles from Rangely. At dawn 
the men were out after sage hens. They saw several, but 
couldn't get a shot at the shy creatures. 

We started early and traveled over a desolate wilder- 
ness of sage and greasewood in a torturing sun, and 
were unpacked at one o'clock for an hour's rest. Some- 
times the trail led through deep channels in the hard- 
baked sand for several hvmdred yards, where we were 
obscured from view. These channels wound about 
through the desert and mesa, as if they might be the beds 
of dried-up rivers ; and they were often so narrow that 
had we met a wagon either our outfit or the vehicle 
would have had to turn back. We came across quan- 
tities of skeletons and skulls of horses and cattle and 
wild animals, but I failed to see any donkey's bones. 
Don was glad when in these cuts, for he managed there 
to keep in the shade, while trailing in the open he was 
ever trotting ahead to hide under a bush where three- 
fourths of him was exposed to the sun. 

Toward the middle of the afternoon we crossed the 
backbone of the plateau, at an altitude of seven thou- 
sand feet, and met a wagon with four horses, bound for 
Leadville with honey. The driver said he was from Ver- 
nal, some sixty miles to the west. Pod thought honey 

323 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

would go well with hot cakes for supper, and after some 
coaxing got the freighter to break a case and sell him a 
half dozen boxes. Then the question arose, how could 
he safely carry the honey? 

"Good idee not to put all your eggs in one basket," 
Coonskin remarked. Pod said he wouldn't. He tucked 
one box in a saddle-bag, another in a roll of blankets 
strapped behind his valet's saddle, another in a bag of 
supplies on Skates, and the last two he packed carefully 
in the canvas awning. The men conversed and smoked 
awhile, when the stranger happened to mention that he 
sometimes dealt in hides. Here was the chance the men 
were waiting for. The bearskin Skates had carried from 
Turkey Creek belonged to the poker-player, but he 
promised half what he should get for it to Pod, if he 
would let the donks carry it till disposed of. The man 
said he was wilHng to give $60 for a fine silvertip skin, 
so Coonskin unpacked. The stranger was more pleased 
with it than he would admit, and hemmed and hawed 
some about the price, but finally paid the $60, and we 
moved on. 

It was six o'clock, and the sun was sinking behind the 
distant plain when the buildings of the K ranch loomed 
in the distance. The sound of galloping horses ap- 
proaching us from behind caused me to look around, and 
I beheld two Indians with guns in hand, yelling and ges- 
ticulating wildly as they leaned over their ponies' necks, 
spurring hard to catch up with us. When Pod and 
Coonskin saw the Indians after them, they got ready to 
throw up their hands. Their faces were as chalky as an 
alkali desert. 

"Have you seen any cattle branded U. S.?" one of the 
wild men inquired. Pod said he hadn't. 

324 



PAINT SIGN WITH DONK'S TAIL. 

''Where you from?" questioned the half-breed. Pod 
said: ''White River country." 

"Ah, we just from there — been hunting up stolen cat- 
tle," the half-breed replied. "Found them, but fellows 
wouldn't give them up. We've done our duty; the fort 
must deal with them now." 

Pod asked what fort, and was told Fort Duchesne, 
some seventy miles away. We learned that two com- 
panies of colored troops of the U. S. army were stationed 
there. The Indians never touched us. 



i 



325 ) 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

BY PYE POD. 

"Dost not hear the neighing of horses, the blare of the trumpets, 
the beating of the drums?" 

"I hear nothing," said Sancho, "but a great bleating of ewes 
and wethers." And this was true, for the two flocks had now 
come up near them. — Don Quixote. 

The great K ranch welcomed us just before dark. My 
animals were generously fed, and we men soon joined 
the Indian policemen at supper in the house. 

When, next morning, the foreman saw us pack the 
donkeys, he expressed surprise at my traveling with such 
a luxurious camp outfit. The folding table and chairs, 
awning, many blankets and other articles were con- 
demned as disgraceful by this experienced plainsman; 
so, my sensibilities being shocked by such a criticism, I 
abandoned a hundred pounds of luggage, giving the 
table, chairs and superfluous blankets to the ranchman, 
and selling him the awning; then we resumed the jour- 
ney. 

Green River was twenty-five miles to the west. The 
journey was even more monotonous than that of the pre- 
vious day. The powdered alkali rose in our faces and 
penetrated our eyes and throats, compelling us almost 
constantly to sip from our canteens, wrapped in wet 
cloths to keep the water cool. Frequently my dog would 
jump at the larger canteens in the panniers and bark for 
a drink. I loved to watch him lie down in the narrow 

326 



SWIM TWO RIVERS IN UTAH. 

shade of a donkey, and, resting his chin on the rim of 
the basin, slowly lap the frugal measure of water I was 
able to spare him. 

We reached Green River by five, and waited until the 
ferryman awoke from his daydream to guide the flat-boat 
across the stream for us. He charged me only two dol- 
lars. I thought it very decent of him, as the river was 
too deep to be forded and he controlled the only ferry; 
our only alternative was to swim this treacherous stream. 
Several overland travelers with prairie schooners were in 
camp on the opposite shore, eastward bound. 

I paid a dollar to graze my animals in an alfalfa field 
for the night, but when we left for Vernal next morning 
every donkey had the stomach-ache. They grunted and 
groaned on the march until noontime, and deplored their 
gluttony with sundry brays that were grating on the 
nerves. 

Vernal is a veritable oasis in a desert, nestling in a 
broad and fertile valley, which, irrigated from the numer- 
ous springs in the mountains forming a rampart round it, 
is a garden of vivid green. Farmhouses dot the or- 
chards and meadows everywhere, and the village itself 
is splendidly shaded. Honey is a leading industry; one 
can see bee-hives in almost every door yard. 

After a good supper with a stranger who offered his hos- 
pitality, we two strolled about the flower-scented streets 
in the cool evening air, until we retired to a downy bed 
in his apartment that made me wish my trip at an end. 
Here were no mosquitoes. The fruits of this valley are 
prolific and delicious, and haven't a blemish; the water is 
pure, and the climate healthful and exhilarating; surely 
Vernal received its name from Nature. 

The frontier post. Fort Duchesne, lay twenty-eight 
miles to the south, across a desert waste. A few miles 

327 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

beyond Vernal we entered the Uintah Indian Reserva- 
tion. Further on we saw the shacks and teepees of the 
Utes, and once we passed a party of this treacherous tribe 
on their ponies. Apparently taking us for desperadoes, 
they veered off to some distance in the sage and gave us 
a "wide berth." The strength and humility of their little 
steeds was surprising. Several of them carried four and 
five people, the buck sometimes with a boy in front of 
him and his squaw astride behind him with a papoose 
strapped to her back, and a boy or girl behind her. When 
they saw Damfino with her towering pack they, too, per- 
haps, did some wondering. 

We crossed the bridge spanning the Uintah River just 
before sunset, and reached the guardhouse of the fort 
just as the bugle sounded retreat parade. To my sur- 
prise and delight the officer of the day, Lieut. Home, 
was adjutant and chief commissary, and better still, an 
old classmate. And when, after parade, I saw the popu- 
lar officer crossing the parade ground to meet me, I won- 
dered if the changes wrought in our appearance by the 
lapse of thirteen years would make us both unrecogniz- 
able. Our meeting was amusing. The orderly ushered 
me into the officer's presence, and I advanced and 
grasped my old friend's hand in a manner to convince 
him that I knew him; but while we shook hands vigor- 
ously and playfully punched each other in the shoulders, 
the puzzled man could not speak my name. 

"You old fool! Don't you know me?" I asked, still 
shaking his hand. 

"You disgraceful old vagabond! Of course I know 
you; but blast me if I can place you," he returned grin- 
ning all over. "Who are you for heaven's sake? Where 
Ve you from, and how did you get here? Speak, man! 

328 



SWIM TWO RIVERS IN UTAH. 

Relieve me of suspense, if you don't want to get shot by 
a colored regiment of United States troopers." 

"Why," I asked, ''is it possible that you do not recol- 
lect your old classmate; the famous pillow fight at S — 's 
Hotel? The mock fight with our old chum, Mike H — n, 
in my room, when you frightened the boy from West 
Virginia half to death with — ?" 

*Tod! Blast me, if it ain't Pod!" exclaimed the Lieu- 
tenant. ''Well, well, if this doesn't beat me. Sit down 
and tell me about it. I am glad to see you. But you do 
look rough. Prospecting? Or fighting Indians? Or 
what?" 

I explained. My animals, I said, were waiting outside 
in the care of my valet. Home rose in astonishment. 

"Traveling overland with a valet!" he exclaimed. "You 
are a beautiful looking swell. I have often read about 
you, but, blast me! if I ever once suspected it was my old 
chum making the famous trip. Show me the jackasses." 
Forthwith I escorted the laughing Lieutenant out and 
presented Mac A'Rony. 

I spent two enjoyable days at Fort Duchesne, as the 
guest of my friend. One of the first to call upon me was 
the genial Colonel commanding. He asked me to lecture 
to the residents of the post. Accordingly, I gave my 
talk that evening to a large audience, and at its conclu- 
sion I was introduced to many ladies and officers of the 
post and afterwards entertained at the army club. 

The following day, at one o'clock, my outfit was ready 
to start. The donkeys were in fine fettle, and Don 
frisked about gayly, eager for the journey. My friend 
regretted I could not spend a month with him, and tucked 
a package in my saddle-bag by which to remember him, 
and many officers and ladies joined with him in wishing 
me God-speed. Then we waved an adieu and climbed 

329 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the long, sage-covered mesa, toward Heber City, a hun- 
dred and thirty-mile march without a habitation in view. 

Fort Duchesne was still in sight when a hailstorm 
struck us. The donkeys were compelled to close their 
eyes and turn their backs to the fearful charges of the 
merciless elements, while we men pulled our hats over 
our eyes, put our hands in our pockets, and crouched 
under our animals; still we were severely bruised, and our 
necks and arms were black and blue. When the hail 
ceased, the leaden clouds poured down a cold rain, which 
beat in our faces and greatly impeded travel. The trail 
was soon converted into a veritable torrent; the sand or 
rock-waste soil softened into mire many inches deep, 
causing the stubbornly faithful burros to slip and stumble 
and labor as they never did before. 

We had journeyed only sixteen miles when, at eight 
o'clock, we pitched camp on the banks of the swollen 
Lake Fork River. The night was black. What a nasty 
predicament! No bottom to the soil anywhere; the mud 
and water reached to my boot-tops. Before unpacking 
we cut sage brush and trampled it into a large square 
bed two feet deep, on which to place our packs. Then, 
picketing the animals, we tried to kindle a fire with 
water-soaked brush sprinkled with coal oil; but failed. 
Soon a ranchman arrived leading his horse, and said he 
had almost lost his steed while fording the river and nar- 
rowly escaped drowning. He joined us in a cold supper 
of canned meat and corn, whiskey and water, then rode 
away in the pouring rain. 

Our bed that night was anything but inviting. We 
could not pitch the tent. The soaked sage and the rain 
saturated our canvas sleeping-bag and dampened our 
clothing. How I regretted having disposed of those 
''superfluous" blankets at the K ranch. We were not 

330 



SWIM TWO RIVERS IN UTAH. 

only wet, but cold, rolled in two blankets and a quilt. 
When I awoke in the morning I even wrung the water 
out of the underwear I had slept in, and, also, my trou- 
sers and coat before I could get them on, and then in the 
still pouring rain ate a cold breakfast, saddled, packed, 
and resumed the trip. 

That day we made twenty miles, and "ran" as terrible 
a gauntlet of thunderbolts as I ever witnessed. Next day 
it became necessary to swim Lake Fork. Mac said it 
was his Rubicon as well as mine. 

The current was swift, and roared and foamed like a 
mountain torrent. My donkeys, brought to the water's 
edge, reared and wheeled and rushed intractably into the 
willows, scraping ofif their packs on the miry banks; it 
required a half hour to replace and securely cinch the 
luggage on the beasts so that it might not be washed 
away. Then, with stout willow goads and howling in- 
vectives, we drove the braying animals into the flood and 
followed them, fording or swimming across the river. 
Cheese was carried down stream and almost drowned. 

Gaining the nether bank we tramped through storm 
and mire all day, making eighteen miles, and after dark 
camped with the party of a prairie schooner at the foot 
of a hill, where we found seasoned cedar stumps for fuel, 
and built a roaring fire. The soil there was more solid, 
the land gently sloping, and we pitched the tent near the 
wagon and fire, staked the donkeys, and joined hands 
with our chance acquaintances to provide the evening 
meal. The good woman of the party gave us a pie, a 
can of beef and a loaf of bread; these luxuries, together 
with boiled potatoes and hot coffee, put our bodies in 
prime condition for a sound night's sleep in wet gar- 
ments and bedding. My provisions were not only quite 

331 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

spoiled by the rain and river water, but were insufficient 
to last us through. 

Rising early, we breakfasted in the rain, and traveled 
only fifteen miles, swimming the Duchesne River once 
and fording it twice that day. The stream was somewhat 
deeper than Lake Fork, but the current less swift, and 
at every crossing my donkeys rebelled. Soon after the 
last fording, the sun broke through the clouds, and gave 
us an opportunity to dry ourselves and freight. A patch 
of v/ild meadow enabled my animals to fill their empty 
stomachs with grass, while some giant sage brush soon 
dried in the broiling sun, allowing us to spread our blank- 
ets and soaked apparel thereon. We unpacked, and 
cooked, and when our clothes were dry enough to feel 
comfortable and shrunken enough hardly to be got on, 
we resumed the march. Our supplies were in a mess. 
Our only can of coal oil was broken, and the contents 
had seasoned every eatable not canned. The forgotten 
boxes of honey had been smashed, and everything was 
gummed with it; every pack smelled like a bee-hive. 
The honey I rolled in our underwear, diluted with the 
water of the several fords, had permeated the raiment so 
thoroughly that now the heat of our bodies began to 
warm it up, and my clothes were soon glued to my skin. 

That night we camped on Current Creek, after ford- 
ing the stream. A bear appeared, but scampered grunt- 
ing into the thicket, my dog not inclined to give chase. 
Once I was awakened by the cry of a mountain lion, and 
Coonskin said the yelps of wolves kept the dog growling 
and snarling half the night through. 

It appeared that we were experiencing the fall 
equinox. Wearily traveling through another day of 
rain, we camped for the night near a bunch of dwarf 
cedars. Now the rain ceased for a couple of hours, and 

332 



SWIM TWO RIVERS IN UTAH. 

enabled us to kindle a fire and cook before lightning 
played on every hand and the rain descended again. Our 
largest canteen leaked from some accident it had re- 
ceived, and our surprise and despair on discovering the 
emptied receptacle may be imagined. What should we 
do for drinking water? I had not more than asked the 
question than my eye discerned several small basins in 
the table rocks close by. These basins were filled, but 
were so shallow that only by dipping the water with a 
saucer could we obtain a two-quart can of the precious 
liquid; next morning we secured another frugal supply 
for the ensuing day's journey. 

Our luggage was placed under two cedars for protec- 
tion from the storm. During the night we were awakened 
by the terrific crash of a thunderbolt, which struck so near 
as to shock us. In the morning I saw that one of the 
trees had been struck. But our packs were uninjured, 
save the whiskey bottle, which was broken and its pre- 
cious contents lost. Thus the sympathy existing between 
"Jersey lightning" and Utah lightning. Another day's 
tramp over a muddy trail, and a night camp on another 
roaring stream, Red Creek; our supplies quite ex- 
hausted, we boiled some onions and ate them with the 
last of our honey. I felt as if I were eating diphtheria 
medicine. Next morning we breakfasted on a turkey 
buzzard shot by Coonskin, and that afternoon my jaded 
caravan crossed the summit of the plateau, and descended 
into the beautiful Strawberry Valley in the glow of a 
gorgeous sunset. Soon after, we met two sheep-herders 
on horseback, looking for two comrades, and, when 
crossing the broad, verdant valley, we saw two great 
flocks of sheep, one grazing up the valley, the other 
down. We camped near Strawberry Creek. The four 
sheep-herders rode up presently and having a wagon full 

333 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

of supplies, said if I would lend them my tent-poles they 
would string up a lamb and divide. I gladly consented. 
Two of the herders rode off to mill up the flocks for the 
night, while the other two butchered a sheep, built a fire 
and cooked. 

If the scene of that highland camp could have been 
painted with true color and detail, it certainly would have 
made the artist famous. A few feet from the flaming 
In-e stood my tent-poles like a tripod, and from their 
apex was suspended, head down, a fat mutton ; on bended 
knee with hunting knife in hand, one of the herders was 
taking its woolly pelt. The coffee-pot and frying-pan 
were on the fire with a kettle of boiling potatoes, and, 
while the shepherd-cook was preparing bread for my 
Dutch oven, two herders gathered sage for a reserve 
supply of fuel. 

Some fifty feet way the horses were picketed, and 
across the stream the donkeys grazed on the juicy grass, 
untethered but none the less secure in the novel corral 
of twenty thousand sheep which the faithful shepherd 
dogs promised to keep milled round us all throughout the 
black, chilly night. The camp-fire sent flashlight beams 
on the surrounding scene, and etched weird pictures on 
the darkness. The silhouetted heads and backs of the 
horses and donkeys moved fantastically against the starry 
sky like animated mountain peaks on the distant hori- 
zon; the vast field of wool encompassing us and the 
bleating of its contented life seemed like the troubled 
waters of some highland lake imprisoning us on its one 
small island; and away across the vale and again just 
above us towered the barrier of mountains against the 
sparkling heavens, forming banks and pillows for stray 
clouds to sleep upon. 

At a late hour we hungry men sat down to a tasty 

334 



SWIM TWO RIVERS IN UTAH. 

supper of fried mutton, potatoes, hot bread and coffee. 
The air soon rang with laughter. Later when we brought 
forth, our companionable pipes and began story-telling 
round the cozy fire, I felt a delight which seemed a full 
compensation for the hardships we had suffered during 
the last week. Suddenly the cry of a mountain lion set 
the collies barking, but the report of a herder's rifle 
silenced the prowler and sent him back, no doubt, into 
the hills. The lions and wolves are a constant menace to 
the flocks in that popular valley. 

It was midnight when we retired. Storm-clouds had 
gathered and shut out the light of the stars; it looked 
and felt like snow. The shepherds, learning that we 
travelers were short of bedding, brought us two heavy 
woolen blankets; so we rolled ourselves together and 
were soon asleep, and in the morning awoke, covered 
with snow an inch deep. By seven o'clock we were 
ready to resume our journey and the shepherds had 
saddled their mounts for their day's duties. 

Trailing out of the valley, and through Daniel's 
Canyon, we traveled some twenty-five miles down to the 
lowlands, and at nine in the evening pitched camp near 
where, next morning, we discovered a ranchhouse and 
haystack. 

Heber City lay five miles away; arriving there we were 
royally entertained. 

Friday we started for Provo. The trail lay through 
a picturesque canyon, along the bank of Provo River, 
where the mountains rose sheer and barren to a great 
height on either hand. Numerous waterfalls pour their 
loveliness over steep declivities; patches of crimson and 
yellow verdure showed in the crevices of the gray sum- 
mits; and now and then a terraced vineyard or orchard 
or an irrigation ditch, hugging the steep slopes, indi- 



9. 



35 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

cated a habitation was hidden somewhere near in leafy 
bower or vine-covered trellis. Once we crossed the river 
on a new iron bridge replacing an old stone structure 
which avalanches had demolished. 

Passing the night in Provo, I rode Skates six miles to 
Springville, through a beautiful, verdant valley, where 
rows of poplars lined the fields and orchards, reminding 
one of Normandy. There I was greeted by a newspaper 
editor and a school principal, the latter inviting me to 
dinner. 

Returning to Provo I found my outfit ready for trail. 
Making a brief stop in Lehi, we reached Pleasant 
Grove about eight, and camped in a peach orchard ad- 
joining a hotel. The landlord welcomed us to a hot sup- 
per, in spite of the late hour, then offered us a downy 
bed, which we declined, preferring the pure, crisp outer 
air. 

I boarded the early morning train for Salt Lake City 
to attend Sunday service at the Tabernacle and hear the 
famous organ and choir. Coonskin remained behind to 
care for our animals. 

Without my donkeys to identify me, my rough, un- 
kempt and most eccentric person caused a sensation at 
the Mormon capital. I kept aloof from everybody, and 
nobody was inquisitive enough to inquire my name, er- 
rand, and previous condition of servitude. I strolled 
about the beautiful city, and then went to church. 

An usher with a charitable heart led me half way down 
the aisle to a pew in the midst of that fashionable con- 
gregation. Every one was dressed better than Pod. 
But I did not feel ill at ease; on the contrary, I felt at 
home. A great many true churchmen and churchwomen 
should have kept their eyes on their hymnals instead of 
watching me try to chant "I want to be a Mormon and 

336 




1 he last and only drop. 




'Just finished luiich -cehcn thtc posse arrived." 



SWIM TWO RIVERS IN UTAH. 

with the Mormons stand." Presently my sensitive 
nerves were irritated by successive coughing across the 
aisle. I looked to see what kind of a mortal was suf- 
fering so, and beheld a vision of loveliness! Instantly 
I remembered a small box of cough drops in my pocket, 
and felt it my duty as a gentleman to summon the cour- 
age to cross the aisle and offer the soothing remedy. 
Soon with palpitating heart and crimson face, I stepped 
with quaking limbs across the aisle and reached the box 
to the fair cougher. 

I remember her look, as she lifted the lid of the — empty 
box. I knew plenty of people in my lifetime who had 
fainted; I regretted never having taken lessons from 
them. 

My head reeled, the Tabernacle was going round, and 
with difficulty I retreated to the pew in front of my hat, 
which I looked for, but couldn't find. I needed fresh 
air, I wanted to go out. Strange to say the lady stopped 
coughing. It was the shock that cured her, but the 
congregation were not aware of that. Some of them 
saw her look into the mysterious pasteboard box and turn 
red-beet color, and cease her convulsions. That was why 
several spoke to me, and asked if I were a magician, or 
healer, as they had read of such people. When I had 
once escaped into the airy street, I wondered how that 
box became emptied; then, suddenly, I recollected that, 
before retiring the night before, Coonskin asked if I had 
some cough drops left, and helped himself. 

After dinner I felt better. I visited the Jubilee Mu- 
seum, where was exhibited an interesting collection of 
Mormon relics of pioneer days, and then took a car for 
Fort Douglas, about three miles from the city on the 
mountain side, and was invited to tea with an officer of 
the post, my old friend Lieut. K n. 

2Z7 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

It was late when I reached Pleasant Grove. The fol- 
lowing day my party covered nearly twenty-five miles, 
and about two o'clock on the succeeding afternoon 
marched into the Mormon capital. There a well known 
pioneer made a speech and welcomed me to the city; 
and after I had responded in fitting words, he presented 
me to leading citizens, among them bishops, presi- 
dents and elders of the Mormon church. The presiding 
bishop, an affable old gentleman, asked the privilege of 
caring for my animals at the Tithing House; another 
prominent citizen invited me to be his guest. I declined 
the latter kindness, preferring to be a free lance and to 
make the most of my sojourn. I was next introduced to 
Governor Wells. 

That same evening Coonskin and I were invited to the 
theater, and next day, besides delivering many lectures, 
I contracted with S & Company, prominent silver- 
smiths, to make a full set of silver shoes for Mac A'Rony, 
to be sent to Oakland, Cal., and there to be set for his 
triumphant entry into San Francisco. 



338 



CHAPTER XLV. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



O, that he were here to write me down an ass ! but, masters, 
remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet 
forget not that I am made an ass. — Much Ado About Nothing. 

My sojourn in the famous Mormon Capital was too 
short for my taste. I shall remember it as long as I have 
bra'in's. I am proud to say that I was initiated into the 
Mormon faith and took unto myself no less than eleven 
wives; and I would have outrivaled Brigham Young in 
connubial conquests if Pye Pod had not bribed the Elders 
and put an end to my marital ambitions. 

While a guest at the Tithing House, I found it well 
stored with asinine and equine luxuries. The Bishop and 
many charming lasses brought me bread, cake, apples and 
jam, and some genial fellow of a convivial turn tapped a 
bottle of rum punches. After imbibing a few "balls," I 
was quite ready to tipple Cheese, Damfino and Skates, and 
right here let me say, that of all skates I ever knew or 
heard about, the last named takes the palm as an artist in 
"high-jinks." While she gave a clever exhibition of an 
inebriated athlete, the rest of us donks lay stupidly on a 
bunch of hay, which was one-tenth of some Mormon's 
harvest, and reveled in day dreams. 

Skates had reached that stage of her circus where she 
was burlesquing a Shetland pony cavorting on two legs, 
when Coon skin announced it was time to start. None of 
us stirred, except Skates. She showed the man how 

339 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

superbly she could pirouette on her left legs around the 
corral; then, suddenly, she toppled over in front of him, 
and reached for the bottle lying at his feet. Coonskin 
grabbed the bottle, smelt of it, eyed each one of us dis- 
trustfully, flung it over the fence, and prodded us all on 
to our feet. You can bet he had a hard job to keep two 
of us standing, let alone all four of us. He looked dis- 
gusted, turned on his heel, and made for the gate at once. 

When Coonskin returned, he bore a pail of water in 
each hand. Indeed, the forgiving old soul, I thought, is 
going to refresh us and wash that dull, brown taste out of 
our mouths. Staggering to my feet, I advanced to meet 
him. Damfino and Cheese were almost dead to the world, 
but Skates made for the man on a lop-sided trot, arriving 
at one pail just as I reached the other. Into the liquid we 
dipped our nozzles, and as quickly jerked them out. What 
strange tasting water ! 

"Water from a mineral spring," observed Skates. *'No, 
it's a bromo-seltzer," said I. Then each drank about a 
fourth of a pailful, and would have drunk more, but Coon- 
skin snatched the pails away, and, it seems, transposed 
them. 

Again we fell to drinking. But, so help me Balaam! 
soon something began to boil and sizzle inside of me. I 
thought I had swallowed a school of swordfish, but im- 
mediately a geyser raged within, and, like a shot, spouted 
out of my mouth, spraying Coonskin's face; and almost 
simultaneously Skates played another fountain in the 
man's eyes. 

"Seidlitz powders!" I gasped, trying to catch my 
breath, which seemed to have left me forever. And 
didn't that man curse the whole race of jackasses! Drop- 
ping the pails, he ran for a pump. 

Presently Coonskin returned. **You infernal scape- 

340 



INITIATED TO MORMON FAITH. 

graces!" he exclaimed, as he eyed me and picked up the 
pails. 

My recent experience had quite restored me to a ration- 
al donkey, and, remembering that "a soft word turneth 
away wrath," I said, "You are too eager to fix the blame 
on an innocent creature. Master Coonskin. The recent 
episode which was so distasteful to us three, and most ex- 
asperating to you, points a good moral. Never become so 
absorbed in the virtues of a cure that you are blind to its 
possible effect upon your patient. 

The man left us, shaking his head and talking to him- 
self, and administered the dose to Damfino and Cheese. 

When Coonskin first visited us it was eleven o'clock. 
Damfino did not sound eight brays to announce the sun's 
meridian and the hour for barley, but we donks were con- 
sidered sober enough to be packed by one o'clock, although 
in poor condition to travel. It was an effort for me to walk, 
an impossibility to walk straight. My asinine comrades 
grunted and groaned from nausea, and Cheese complained 
that we had been cheated of our mid-day meal. 

When we arrived at the Hotel, Pod had just finished his 
luncheon. Damfino looked into the hotel portal and 
brayed. Then Pod came out, got into my saddle, and 
amid great applause from the assembled citizens, piloted 
our caravan down the broad thoroughfare, out of the 
lovely poplared streets and hospitable, home-lined ave- 
nues, past orchard and field and cottage and windmill, 
over the road to Garfield Beach, on "that mysterious 
inland sea," a few miles from the city. Once or twice, as 
I wabbled across the level and luxuriant valley, I turned 
my head for "one last, lingering look behind," though I 
confess I did so timorously, with a feeling intermixed with 
superstitious foreboding, as I recalled the story of how 
Lot's wife turned into a pillar of salt. It suggested itself 

341 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

to my reason that if there was one spot on earth indige- 
nous to such a dire transformation it was right in that 
Salt Lake valley. 

There, above and behind us, and across the majestic 
towers of the Temple, lay Fort Douglas, the gem frontier 
post of America, its white painted fences and barns glis- 
tened like meerschaum in the sunshine, with lovely drives 
and walks, and smooth-cut foliage, and sleek-broomed 
lawns of emerald, and fountains (not charged with seid- 
litz), and blooming flowers. And beyond towered the 
rugged, snow-crowned summits of the ''eternal barrier'* 
which holds the fort below, and guards with loving care 
the "Land of Promise" and that so-called "modern Zion" 
at their feet, like a dog guards his bone when threatening 
elements are wagging his way. 

We arrived at Utah's Coney Island, Garfield Beach, 
late in the middle of the afternoon. This famed resort, 
named after the martyr President who was the victim of 
an assassin, is a very pleasant retreat on the lake shore. 
It is accessible by railroad train, horse and buggy, or 
donkey engine, although few people accept the latter 
mode of conveyance, as Pod did, I observed. 

Pod stopped to swim and float on Salt Lake. Then we 
went on and brought up at a delicious fresh-water well, in 
front of the Spencer Ranch-house, where I led my asinine 
quartette in the song of the "Old Oaken Bucket." An 

audience at once gathered. Mr. S invited us all to 

tarry for the night, and when the Prof, accepted, we donks 
gave three "tigers" and a kick, which struck the ranch 
dog as being most extraordinary. Landing on the other 
side of the fence, he yelped himself into the house with- 
out further assistance. 



342 



CHAPTER XLVI. 

BY PYE POD. 

There are braying men in the world, as well as braying asses; 
for what's loud and senseless talking and swearing any other 
than braying? — Sir Roger L' Estrange. 

We set out early from Spencer ranch, refreshed by a 
good night's sleep. The weather was mild, but the trail 
dusty, and the country uninteresting. I found Tooele 
to be a sociable town that, from appearances, subsisted 
mainly on sympathy and fruit. Some of its denizens 
own outlying ranches or fruit-farms, and the remainder, 
those who don't, have sympathy for those who do. 
There appears, however, betwixt these two outcropping 
extremes to be ample means with which to provide the 
more modest comforts of life — wives and children: for 
such are known to exist, under any conditions, all over 
the world. 

No sooner had I entered the village, than a gentle- 
eyed siren coyly approached, and said her papa wished 
me to put my jacks in his stable. While I was trying 
to please that man, a squatty youth scraped across the 
road in his elder brother's breeches to say that his mother 
would like to have me spend the night at her house. 
"Sociable people all right," my valet remarked, while I 
said to the boy, "Kid, you run and tell your good 
mother that I have a man with me, and, if she can 
accommodate us both, I will be glad to compensate her 
liberally for the hospitality." 

But these Mormon hcaux esprits, while followers of 

343 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

the Prophet, reverence old Bacchus as though he were 
Young. 

As soon as my animals were provided for, Coon- 
skin and I were called to supper and greeted at the gate 
by Mr. and Mrs. Noah and the children. I was hungry 
and tired. It occurred to me that in all probability my 
hosts had drawn heavily on their larder to provide a gen- 
erous repast, and would yet have to pluck all their drakes 
and ganders before they could make our beds down. 

That evening, on venturing in the street, I was held up 
by a jolly party, armed with two kegs of beer, a barrel 
of sandwiches, and a number of mandolins and guitars. 
In front of my donkey's quarters was a spacious, grass- 
grown area, where they spread their feast; there I met my 
fete. The serenade, if not the banquet, was in honor of 
the whole party, biped and quadruped. Although my 
dog whined at the harmony to frighten the performers, 
Mac and Damfino applauded the classic selections 
vociferously, while all four donks availed themselves of 
standing-room only, rest their chins on the top corral 
rail, and audibly discussed the exercises. 

As soon as my entertainers departed, Coonskin and I 
sought our hostess. It was a beautiful September night. 
No air was astir. The sky was darkly clear and the 
myriad stars were winking with insomnia. 

Startled from sound sleep at early dawn by a blast 
from a "busted" fish-horn, I rolled out of bed in the 
presence of Noah, instead of Gabriel, as I was frightened 
to expect. 

The next thing was to wash and dress. A half vinegar 
barrel stood at the back door abrim with water. I was 
told it was soft, but I found it hard enough to wash in. A 
few feathers floated on the surface, and the soft water 
looked like soft soap. Old Noah was one ahead of me 

344 



TYPEWRITING ON A DONKEY. 

and dipped in. His wife, sons, and dog made their 
ablutions in turn, while the Shanghai hens and a pet 
magpie had doubtless rinsed their fowl beaks in it. 

I watched the exhibition reflectively, and, concluding 
it would not show proper respect to appear at table be- 
fore taking a dip, and that more than likely I should have 
to drink worse water before I had crossed the desert, I 
ducked my head, paddled my fins, then dried them in the 
sun, for I couldn't "go" that towel. The scrambled 
pigs' feet at breakfast was a new dish to this epicure, 
though my versatile valet observed with an inflated appe- 
tite, that he had often made pigs' feet scramble back in 
Wisconsin. 

In spite of a late start, we reached Stockton before 
noon. My first duty was to hunt up an opulent resident, 
whom I had met at the soiree in Tooele, and who had 
promised me a burro. 

We at once unpacked the donkeys, to give them a 
restful nooning, and piled the luggage in front of a 
store. It was here that my philanthropic friend found 
me smoking. At once, he sent a lad to chase up a good, 
strong burro to make good his promise; next he offered 
me the freedom of the town. 

*T'm kind of tired, my good sir," I said gratefully, 
"but — how — how far is the town." 

The donor of Coxey blinked his eyes and felt of his 
goatee, then, straightening back, said, "Not fer, it's right 
here. Can't you see it all round ye? Ye didn't cal'luate 
ter find a New Yirk er New Orlins, did ye? This is jest 
plain unadulterated Stockton, and it's glad ter welcome ye. 
Now, if ye' re trim ter go about a piece, I'll guide ye." 

"Thanks, awfully," I replied, rising. "Take me to a 
smith the first thing ; I want all my donks' feet examined 
and put in condition for the desert." 

345 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Then leaving an order for supplies at the store, I 
had Coonskin ride my new burro to the blacksmith. 

After a two-and-a-half-hour sojourn in Stockton, my 
caravan was wending its way to the next and last town 
we would visit in Utah, St. Johns. The next after that 
would be one hundred and seventy-five miles away. 
Here and there along the trail a ranchman's shack stood 
alone, the glistening window panes flashing like a light- 
house tower in that sea of sage. An occasional horse 
or steer would loom above the brush; once or twice a 
jackrabbit bounded across the trail, or a weary buzzard 

careened in the air overhead, as though figuring for me 
a fatal horoscope. 

I was silent a long time before Coonskin reminded me 
that I had neglected my weekly letter to the papers. 

Said he, "It's a good time to cultivate the acquaintance 
of Samantha Jane, that typewriter you got at Salt Lake.'* 

"Can't you suggest something more sensible?" I re- 
plied. "How can I manage the machine while riding a 
jackass?" 

"Easy enough," said Coonskin. "Lash it on Damfino, 
and seat yourself as you would to play solitaire." 

Great idea! The neglected typewriter was at once in- 
troduced to my party for the first time, and secured in 
a comfortable position on the broad-backed donkey. 
Then I seated myself vis-a-vis, and opened up a some- 
what spirited conversation on the journey. 

It was not with the best of grace that Samantha Jane 
consented to be my amanuensis. She held the sheet of 
paper very mechanically, and appeared utterly devoid of 
animation. I first tried to date my letter. I shot my 
finger at the S key and struck the L just as Damfino 
nabbed at a sage bush. I'll correct the spelling after- 
ward I thought, and tried to hit the letter E, but rapped 

346 



TYPEWRITING ON A DONKEY. 

A full in the face. "Don't joggle so!" I yelled at my 
steed, and, drawing a bead on P, literally knocked 
down Z, as Damfino stubbed her toe. Next, in vexation, 
I shot at T quite recklessly, and punched Y's face close 
by. The effort had overtaxed me, and snatching the 
paper from my typewriter, read aloud L-A-Z-Y. Mac 
grinned from ear to ear, and Coonskin laughed loudly. 
The donkey remarked that practice is a good remedy 
for incompetence, even if it does not cultivate patience. 

Again and again I tried to write the abbreviation 
"Sept.," but at length called "Coonskin, I'm going to 
discharge this typewriter, and stow her away till we get 
to Eureka." 

"Your courtship is amusing. Keep it up, you'll 
understand each other in time," he replied. 

"I have my doubts," brayed Mac, "when she won't 
even let him make a date with her." 

I resolved to begin the letter anew, and to write at 
least a paragraph, date or ho date. This is how it 
looked when I had finished. 

"Talo hab$ getoch-Tho forntnigs ate erut%wsot 
pirowigs og owhym, dyl swelboka swice, bomblastnig 
wisj thu cleg pry) wet dnpenting tresgd wobm -&a 
wihng rubpint dor a Togues Cruop; % ro mi Noty gni- 
leek befort dajosty ga eht5 safey haschimb she boj o rew 
laim$. 

It was extremely encouraging, to find but four cor- 
rectly-spelled and distinctly English words in all that 
jumble of dialects. I thought it a good paragraph to 
practice on, and would have tried it over, but Coonskin 
called to me that we were approaching town and, from 
appearances, the villagers were going to give us a hearty 
welcome. So I stopped Damfino, and hastily tucked 
Samantha Jane away in time to avoid a scandal. 

347 



CHAPTER XLVII. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



Very good; well kissed I an excellent courtesy. — Othello. . 

By the time our caravan reached St. Johns, Pye Pod 
was bewailing his failure to discover the key to his type- 
writer's character, the non-production of his newspaper 
letter, and the forfeiture of the check it would have 
brought him; besides, he was borrowing trouble by de- 
ploring his prospective desert journey ere it had begun. 

"What a sleepy old hamlet in which to bid farewell to 
earth!" he muttered dejectedly, as we passed the first 
house. ''I'll bet 13 to i that there isn't a soul in the 
whole settlement to welcome us. The great and only 
Pythagoras Pod, D. D. (donkey driver), passeth through 
with his stately train and entereth the seared and thorny 
purgatory of the desert without the perfume of a single 
rose to waft to him its balm of comforting sympathy." 

Suddenly a happy cheer greeted our ears in the dis- 
tance. The sound was sweetly feminine, and Pod said 
that to his sensitive ear the angelic chimes swelled and 
died and softly returned, like the tender notes of the 
nightingale in an echo vale. (Pod is often swelled by the 
divine inflatus). At this time not a soul beyond our out- 
fit was visible, but soon we discovered in the foreground 
of a kennel-shaped schoolhouse a bevy of girls, all clad 
in white and garnished with flowers and delicate vines. 
As we drove near, the whole band of pretty maidens, led 
by the tallest of them, approached and surrounded us. 

348 



POD KISSED BY SWEET SIXTEEN. 

I knew not whether Pod was frightened or elated; he fell 
of¥ my back in an effort to dismount gracefully. 

The pretty chieftess made a bow, and looked at the 
sky, and played nervously with her skirt, and turned side- 
ways, and finally began to intone her "Him of the Asi- 
nine Pilgrimage." 

"Noble and valorous courtier," she began softly — and 
a donk of the party brayed, "Speak louder!" — "we daugh- 
ters of St. Johns, Queen of the Desert, come to greet you 
with kind and admiring hearts." (Coxey brayed boister- 
ously, "Here, Here!") "We hail your brilliant achieve- 
ment, as the planets hail the sun" — ("What a Venus that 
middle one," I confided to Pod) — "Your courage, your 
fortitude, your manly sacrifice of the associations of your 
nativity and of the affectionate kisses of dear ones left 
behind you. These, we deem, should be recognized. 
Therefore, having learned that you and your stately cara- 
van were coming by this highway and that your trusty 
charger, Mac A'Rony, was still standing faithfully by 
you" (I bowed at the compliment) — "and your poultroon 
of long-eared cavalry" — "For Balaam's sake! What's 
that she calls us?" I questioned my mute master. "She 
means 'Platoon," not 'poultroon,' " he explained — "St. 
Johns has befittingly chosen the flowers of her desert 
garden — thirteen comely virgins — to be presented to you 
on this momentous occasion. And so, in honor of your 
famous exploits," continued the chieftess, composedly, 
"we now ^ome to meet the lion fearlessly in his desert 
haunts. Here, take these fiowers (she handed Pod a 
bunch) and wear them. They will prove a talisman to 
conduct you and your party in safety to the farther desert 
shore." And with the most exalted, sweet-scented nerve 
Pod accepted the bokay. He smelled of it, and examined 
it, and then disappointedly yet courageously repHed: "I 

349 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

see no tulips among the flowers, and I love two-lips so 
much." 

"Indeed? Well, then you shall not be disappointed," 
said the pretty speaker; and, s'help me Balaam! If that 
girl didn't step forward and give my surprised master 
her two lips. And every one of the dozen others, except 
the last one, gave hers too, or drown me in an alkali 
pond. The last girl sensibly boxed his ears. Pod just 
kissed every mouth of them, from the eldest to the 
youngest, save the one. The touching ceremonies over, 
I rather expected my master to respond eloquently in a 
few well-chosen words, but he was speechless. "Speech!" 
cried Cheese, and every donkey of us repeated, "Speech, 
Speech!" Then Pod found his tongue and began: 

"Beautiful and spicy sage-flowers," he bungled; and 
the maidens' sweet faces colored, — "I am completely 
overcome with this splendid ovation. As frogs dive into 
a crystal pool, you have disturbed the morbid surface of 
my present feelings with radiating ripples which shall 
widen and cease to fade into oblivion only when I shall 
have reached the desert's opposite strand. The honey 
you have left on my lips shall sweeten my ertswhile bit- 
ter hours, and the milk of your human kindness will 
quench my thirst when the last drop in my canteen has 
evaporated. Now I must bid you all a fond and affec- 
tionate farewell." 

At once the silver-tongued orator went down the line 
again, kissing each and every one of the dozen he had 
sampled before; then he got into my saddle. The thir- 
teen foolish virgins backed sorrowfully against the 
barbed wire fence with handkerchiefs to their eyes; the 
blushing, crimson sun hid his phiz behind the distant 
mountains; a dumb weathercock tried to crow as he 

350 



POD KISSED BY SWEET SIXTEEN. 

tucked himself to roost on a neighboring barn; and our 
caravan moved on toward the desert waste. 

"A complete triumph," remarked the Professor, 
swelled with pride; **but for that eldest prude who 
slapped my face.'' 

"The incident points a moral," I returned. "Don't 
attempt to pet every cat that purrs." 



351 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 

BY PYE POD. 

The lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing. 

— Shakespeare. 

Rocky Mountain canaries were singing their luUabys 
and Bridget (the clock) had just called eleven o'clock 
when the house of St. Joer loomed in the darkness. A 
hush was upon it and all the out-buildings. Though no- 
body greeted me, still I knew where I was by the odd- 
looking arch over the corral gate. Mr. St. Joer was at 
the soiree in Tooele, and had made me promise to tarry 
with him a night before braving the desert ; so we camped 
in the corral. We were awakened early by the genial 
ranchman, and escorted in to breakfast with him and a 
guest, a young man from Salt Lake City, who had just 
ridden horseback from Granite Mountain, where he had 
been inspecting some lead mines. 

It was a treat for me to sit again at a meal not cooked 
by myself ; all four of us ate with genuine relish. The 
stranger was about thirty, of light complexion, tall and 
slender, and was dressed in a nobby riding-suit, with 
leather leggings and spurs. 

"If you take the Granite Mt. trail to Redding Springs," 
suggested my host, turning to the young engineer for his 
indorsement — ''but no, that's too risky," he corrected. 
Save forty miles and more," commented the engineer. 
I can give the Professor a diagram of the desert and all 

352 






LAST DROP IN THE CANTEEN. 

the trails to Fedora Spring in Granite Mt. ; the trail from 
there to Redding is not confusing, I understand." 

I said I would take the risk to save forty miles, a two 
days' journey. My first intention had been to go south 
of the desert by Fish Springs, the route generally traveled 
by emigrant schooners. 

Three hours later, we were climbing the rocky summit 
of the range that hid the great desert beyond, and thread- 
ing the jagged causeway called the Devil's Gate. 

They rose sheer and craggy high above us — im- 
mutable witnesses of that sundering catastrophe of nature 
when the earth's mighty convulsions of a prehistoric age 
converted an obstacle into a convenient pass. When out 
on the western side and I beheld the broad expanse of 
sun-tanned desert reaching from that sage mottled slope 
to the parallel-stretch of mesa, some twenty miles away, 
the intervening Skull Valley lost for me its legendary 
terrors. But it was a forlorn-looking prospect ; only two 
things made up the perfect picture of a despised Nature — 
alkali and sage. 

About noon, when we had proceeded some distance into 
the Skull Valley desert, we stopped to feed and rest an 
hour before resuming the march. As we seemed to have 
abundance of water and provisions, this glaring solitude 
with such a lugubrious name caused me no dread sensa- 
tions, for when supplied with the necessities of life, it is 
difficult for one to realize the dying man's agonies of star- 
vation or thirst. 

By six we had crossed Skull Valley. The last mile of 
trail wound up a slight grade to a grassy bench, where 
stood a low-roofed, log shack; it was the deserted Scrib- 
ner's Ranch. A few moment's reconnoitering resulted in 
our finding the spring. 

Then we unpacked and picketed the animals, except- 

353 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

ing Mac A'Rony, who was usually allowed to roam at 
will ; for when tied, he was forever tangling himself in a 
snarl that required time and patience to unravel. 

Our tent was pitched a hundred feet from the shack, 
whose dusky contour, wrapped in the sombre veil of night, 
on the mesa above us and against the sparkling firmament, 
looked cold and repelling indeed. 

Day had advanced two hours when we awoke. The 
broad desert to the west gleamed at white heat. While I 
cooked breakfast, Coonskin saddled the animals, to save 
time; then, the meal over, we quickly packed and started 
for the scorching sands. The trail was as hot and level 
as a fire-brick floor. As far as the eye could reach in 
three directions, the blue, curved dome of heaven and the 
glistening desert met in a gaseous haze, hiding the hori- 
zon, but in time, far to the west, as we proceeded grad- 
ually, rose a bluish-gray pyramid, which we know to be 
Granite Mountain; while, to the rear, the distant hills, 
where stood the deserted cabin, looked to be mere dust- 
heaps at the base of Nature's architecture — the towering 
rocks of the Cedar Mountains through which we trailed 
the morning before. 

Every few minutes we had to tap our canteens; the 
powdered alkali dust rose in our faces and swelled our 
eyes and tongues ; no amount of water would alleviate our 
pangs of thirst. Besides, the evaporation of the water in 
our cloth-wrapped canteens and basket-covered demijohn 
was frightfully great ; I feared lest the supply would not 
last us through to Fedora Spring. I gave Don frequent 
drinks, yet his eyes were blood-shot and his tongue hung 
out foaming and swollen. As a precaution against any 
sudden freak of madness on his part, I held my revolver 
in readiness to dispatch the dear fellow should it become 
necessary. 

354 



LAST DROP IN THE CANTEEN. 

On the other hand, my donkeys strode along quietly, 
without complaint or seeming discomfort, as if in their 
native element. 

Not a living thing could we see beyond our caravan. 
No jack-rabbits ventured into the desert; no more would 
a water-spaniel breast a scalding sea. The only living 
thing we met with in that gigantic kiln was a horned toad, 
which was existing as a hermit and was apparently con- 
tent. We captured it, and Coonskin named it Job, be- 
cause the horns which covered it looked like the extinct 
craters of once boiling boils. Our water was vanishing so 
rapidly by noon that I decided not to tarry for lunch and 
rest, but to hasten to the spring ; but at five, when the sun 
was nearer the horizon and evaporation less, I ordered a 
dry camp, and the donkeys were unpacked and grained 
with the last of the barley generously presented by St. 
Joer. We men lunched on cold meat and crackers and 
canned fruit, and sparing draughts of warm water ; after 
which we reclined and smoked until the sun set. Then 
we repacked before darkness set in to confuse us. How 
the donkeys did enjoy rolling in the alkali! When they 
had finished their dry ablutions they looked like negroes 
who had been hit with a bag of flour. 

Just before resuming the march, we men poured a few 
drops of citric acid into our two quart canteens, whose 
tepid water was only an aggravation of our thirst; the 
acid made it palatable. Soon afterward I discovered our 
great error. The acid so worked on the tin that the water 
became, in time, unfit to drink; fearing lest it would poi- 
son us, we both had to throw the precious liquid away. 

About mid-way that afternoon I saw my first mirage. 
It was simply magnificent, wonderful! A snow-crowned 
mountain rose out of the desert, and on top of it, turned 
bottom-side up, rested its counterpart, both phantom peaks 

355 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

remaining a while immovable; then they appeared to 
crush into each other and dissolve. The spectacle was be- 
wildering. Like mammoth icebergs in a glistening sea, 
they seemed to melt and leave on the arid waste a great 
lake of crystal water. At sundown they reappeared with 
still grander effect. 

The sun threw a crimson, fiery mantle over the under 
mountain, which produced the effect of flowing lava down 
its snow-white slope to a flame-red lake on the desert, 
while above, on the upper mountain, reflected and danced 
shadows of rose-color and pink, as if reflected from 
flames within the crater of a volcano underneath. Then, 
as the sun sank below the horizon, the upper mountain 
gradually rose toward the zenith and opened wider, like 
a great fan, tinted with all the colors of a rainbow, until it 
faded into radiating webs of gossamer, and disappeared. 

One other time we saw plainly the skeletons of a man 
and a horse glistening several hundred feet from the trail, 
but I was too incredulous to put faith in the old proverb, 
"Seeing is believing," and passed on. Just before dark 
the huge Granite Mountain looked to be only a couple of 
miles away. Still we traveled till midnight before we 
passed the edge of the dusky pile, so deceiving are dis- 
tances in that rarified air. 

The evening in that cooling oven of baked sand and 
alkali was oppressively long, dull and wearisome. Every 
trail branching toward Granite Mountain had to be 
checked off my diagram, for we had seen no sign-board. 
True, the heavens lent a little cheer with their sparkling 
lights, but the temperature fell from far above the lOO 
degree mark to 70 degrees by eight o'clock, and to 48 de- 
grees before we pitched camp. We had passed three trails 
not on the diagram, and I began nervously to speculate 
whether the sign -board had been taken by some overland 

356 



LAST DROP IN THE CANTEEN. 

voyager for fuel and we had passed the trail to Fedora 
Spring. 

The clock pointed to one. A few moments later a well- 
beaten trail curved southward toward the towering pyra- 
mid of rock. I called a halt to reason with my man on 
the advisability of following it. 

"We'll chance it," I said; and we trailed toward the 
mountain. Narrower, rockier and steeper grew the trail 
for two miles, before I discerned the sloping sides of the 
canyon we were in, when I ordered camp. The donkeys 
were securely picketed to the roots of giant sage with our 
longest ropes, to enable them to find sleeping places among 
the rocks ; I knew they must be very thirsty, and 
would try to break away in search of water. Then we 
made our bed in the trail, and with lantern went to find 
the spring; but we searched in vain and returned to our 
camp-fire discouraged. Evidently we had taken a wood- 
trail into a dry canyon. 

Only half a two-quart canteen of water was left us. We 
ate a cold lunch, and drank sparingly ; after which I took 
charge of the canteen for the night. Coonskin remon- 
strated at once, saying he was thirsty. I said I was, too, 
and that when I should drink, he could, but not otherwise. 
We were in desperate circumstances, and I must exercise 
my authority. So we crawled into our blankets, on the 
hard and narrow trail under the glittering canopy of 
heaven, and were soon asleep. But, before lying down, 
with a realizing sense that we were lost and without the 
water to keep us alive half the distance either to Skull 
Valley or to Redding Springs, I knelt in fervent prayer 
to God to guide us out of that awful wilderness to water 
in time to save us from the death that seemed to be in 
store for us on the morrow. The beaming planets, also 
voyagers on a limitless sea of mystery and doubt, looked 

357 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

down, cold and unsympathetic. Coonskin was first 
asleep ; when I was sure, by his breathing, I quietly rose 
and gave my faithful dog a few drops of water in the 
wash basin. He was grateful indeed, and tried to be con- 
tent; he seemed to realize the situation, and licking my 
cheek, lay down close to my side. 

The sun shone over the walls of the canyon and awoke 
us frightfully late. We stretched and yawned. Now, I 
thought, if I had only taken Mac's suggestion to lay in a 
store of carrots and turnips, the water in the vegetables 
would have sufficed in emergency, and the donkeys had 
feed. 

As my hopeful outfit tramped and slipped and tumbled 
down to the shining plain, I almost felt I could see my 
finish on that sun-scorched lime-hued gridiron which 
faded away into a gaseous nothingness in three direc- 
tions. When we came to the main desert trail, I halted 
my caravan to debate with my despondent valet as to what 
would be the wisest move. Should we go east or west? 

"Flip a penny," said Coonskin, "Heads, west; tails, 
east!" and he at once threw the coin whirling in the air, 
and caught it, tails up. 

"West we have been traveling, and west we shall con- 
tinue to go," I said positively ; and gave the command to 
move on, adding: "If we fail to discover the sign-board 
after passing beyond the mountain, then we'll come back 
and search to the east." 

We had proceeded a mile and a half when Coonskin 
went crazy, or had a fit, and I emptied the canteen in his 
mouth. This revived him. He had partially undressed 
and was trying his best to frighten me and the dog. The 
sun beat down furiously; the sky wasn't the only thing 
that looked blue. I raised the canteen to my lips and 
drained it of the last and only drop. My tongue hung out 

358 



LAST DROP IN THE CANTEEN. 

swollen, and my palate and throat burned. Another half 
mile, and I should have despaired, when, suddenly, a small 
white board, nailed to a short stake, loomed up ahead of 
us. I knew intuitively it marked the branch trail to the 
coveted spring. No two happier mortals ever lived than 
Coonskin and I. We threw our hats in the air ; we shout- 
ed, and hurrahed, and sang; and turned handsprings and 
somersaults on the white, dusty floor of the desert. An 
hour later my little caravan had climbed the canyon to 
its fountain, and there we men fell on our stomachs with 
my dog, under the heels of the five donkeys which crowd- 
ed about the cool, delicious waters, and drank until seized 
by the collar and dragged away from the spring by a man 
and boy. 

Near by stood prairie schooners, and some yards be- 
yond were their horses, nibbling on the tops of sage 
brush. The party was bound east, and did us a kindness 
by preventing our drinking to excess in our condition. 

The man was kind enough to caution me before depart- 
ing to mark well the sky and the wind, for should we be 
caught in a rain in that dreaded Red Desert, whose soil is 
so tenacious, we would "pass in our chips" without doubt. 

At one o'clock we struck out. The afternoon's march 
was just as tedious, and uncomfortably hot, and thirst- 
provoking as that of the previous day. But, with the ex- 
ception of a fright we received late in the day when a few 
drops of rain fell from a passing cloud, there was nothing 
to mar the serenity of the journey to Redding Springs. 
The long-traveled trail was worn to a depth of twenty 
inches and more for many miles. We men, especially I, 
had to sit our animals Turkish-fashion to avoid being 
drawn out of the saddles by our dragging feet. The 
march after sunset to two in the morning was the most 
wearisome. Finally, when we were still three or four 

359 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

miles to Redding, I heard a dog bark ahead in the dark- 
ness, and thought we were almost there. Yet we traveled 
an hour and a half before the buildings of the ranch 
loomed in the darkness. Soon we had supped, and were 
wrapped in slumber. 

Redding Springs is a great oasis in the Salt Lake 
Desert. Three springs, varying from fifty to one hundred 
and fifty feet in diameter, overflow the reeded banks and 
irrigate a wide area of what otherwise might be an arid 
spot. An Italian owns this cattle-ranch and grows most 
of the necessities of life ; he seemingly is content, though 
far removed from the cheerful and busy world. He be- 
lieved that two of the springs were bottomless, and had 
some subterranean outlet. A steer once attempted to swim 
across one pond, and was drawn under by the suction and 
never seen again. To prove the Italian's theory, these two 
ponds, or springs, contained fish whose blindness indicates 
they must have Hved in underground channels where eye- 
sight was not required, soon losing their optics altogether. 

Mac A'Rony observed, when I had related to him the 
dago's story that in all probability the steer had under- 
taken an underground voyage to join a herd of sea-cows 
in the Pacific. 

Our much-needed day of rest was a delightful one. 

It was a twenty-eight mile journey to Deep Creek. My 
outfit was in readiness to start at 7 a. m. next day. The 
nine miles across the sage-covered plain to the mountains 
was accomplished in a little over three hours ; then my 
animals began slowly to climb the ascent over a rough but 
well-beaten trail. 

By carrying out the directions given me by the Italian, 
at ten that night my fatigued caravan was straggling 
along the western slope of the broad-shouldered Deep 
Creek range. The sky was clouded, the air heavy with 

360 



LAST DROP IN THE CANTEEN. 

mist ; a shower was imminent. I strained my eyes to fer- 
ret out a habitation of some sort from among the distant 
and faintly twinkHng lights, but when I had selected one 
for our objective point and gone a hundred yards or so, it 
suddenly went out, and I had to single out another one. 
Again we were disappointed. Evidently it was the bed- 
time hour ; soon all the lights would be extinguished. 

Presently rain began to fall. I took it as a timely warn- 
ing, and ordered camp. We pitched our tent in the trail, 
the only place in which we could spread our bed, and 
crawled under cover just as the rain poured down with a 
vengeance. 

We had not more than closed our eyes than Don uttered 
a growl of warning, and I heard the sound of galloping 
hoofs approaching. I sat up. Then I heard the tramp- 
ling of sage to one side of the trail, and looking out, saw a 
man on horseback. ''Hello there ! Who be you ? Travel- 
in' er goin' somewhere ?" called a voice. I liked the tone ; 
the words were genial, even cheery. When I answered, 
he gave us an urgent invitation to pack up and go on with 
him to his cabin a half mile distant, as his guests until 
the storm abated. 

I thought you were drunken Injuns at first," said he. 
Not common for white men to camp in the trail. My 
horse was so frightened he nearly spilt me, shying into 
the chaparral." 

I laughed good-naturedly, and promised to arrive at 
his house in time for breakfast, explaining that it would 
not be worth our while to dress and pack in the rain, since 
we were perfectly comfortable. Soon a hush fell upon the 
scene, and the beating rain on the canvas lulled us sweetly 
to sleep. 

When we arose in the morning, everything was drip- 
ping and a furious gale blowing. The rain appeared to be 

361 






ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

over, but no sooner had we packed up than down again it 
came. We hustled our animals up the muddy incline, and 
soon rode into the door-yard of the only cabin on the trail, 
and commenced unpacking. Soon our midnight ac- 
quaintance, Murray, and his chum, an old man who went 
by the cognomen of Uncle Tom, came out and welcomed 
us ; both our hosts were effusive in their hospitality. One 
stabled and fed the donkeys, and the other ushered us into 
the cabin where we were provided with dry raiment and a 
hot breakfast. The fire in the stove roared in triumph and 
scorn at the scudding rain and wind without, while I 
smiled in gratitude. 

The men brought us books and tobacco, and couldn't 
do enough for us. The storm soon assumed the character 
of a hurricane ; and I tried to fancy my little party strug- 
gling in the throes of those merciless elements to make 
headway across the valley and up the western mesa. The 
gale waged all day and night, but on the following morn- 
ing the sky was clear and the wind had died considerably. 
It was a relief to get out of the stuffy house into the free 
and open air. I took the axe and exercised myself with 
chopping wood for an hour, which display of energy 
greatly pleased Uncle Tom, who, I assumed, provided the 
fuel for the camp. 

Murray was to start at eight on a round-up ; so I re- 
sumed my pilgrimage at the same time. Before good-byes 
were said he presented me with a fine hair rope, braided 
with his own hands, as a souvenir of the happy occasion. 
The place to find large hearts is out on the western plains ! 

Nine o'clock saw us trampling sage in a short cut down 
the slope toward a small group of log houses, designated 
as Deep Creek. The frontier store was kept by an Irish- 
man, but bossed by his wife, who tried to impress me with 
her importance. Adjoining it stood another old shack, 

362 



LAST DROP IN THE CANTEEN. 

and projecting from its front eves was a small signboard 
on which was the following startling announcement : 

1st. class dentestry 
All kinds dun cheap. Horses a specilty. 
Wimen prefured. 
TERMS CASH or credit. 

I was amused at the novelty of this dentist's shingle ; so 
was Mac A'Rony. 

"Poor Damfino!" he ejaculated presently, as I rubbed 
his nose. ''Can't you help her out of her suffering? The 
poor girl has had a toothache for two days." 

"Most assuredly I will," I said. "Why didn't you in- 
form me before?" And forthwith I ferreted out the fron- 
tier tooth-doctor. He, resurrected from his prolonged 
lethargy, hunted up a dust-covered tool-chest, and fol- 
lowed me impetuously to his asinine patient. 



P3 i 

i 



CHAPTER XLIX. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



Of all tales 'tis the saddest — and more sad 
Because it makes us smile. — Byron. 

Contrary to the old saw, ''Misery loves company," 
Damfino wished to be alone. She said she wanted to 
cry, but couldn't. She had the sympathy of us all. Only 
those who have suffered can appreciate the sufferings of 
others. I never shall forget my profanity and the pain 
that prompted it when the too considerate Prof, con- 
sented to my electric bath. 

And now, with the same kind motives oozing out of 
his face, he introduced the sage brush dentist to Dam- 
fino. Dr. Arrowroot dropped his toolchest and seizing 
his patient by the upper jaw with his left hand and by the 
lower jaw with his right, said: "Open up, madam," and 
proceeded to examine her molars. 

"Locate the claim. Doc?" an on-looker asked, face- 
tiously. 

The doctor said he did, but no sooner began to dig 
than he was ejected. Then the tooth-doctor called for 
volunteers to assist him; every man not valuing his life 
responded. Two Mexicans held the remote end of a 
long pole and pried Damfino's jaws apart, while several 
Indians and halfbreeds braced against her sides to pre- 
vent her from kicking and falling. 

At length, Doc fastened his forceps on the ulcerated 
tooth, and, grinding his teeth and wrinkling his face, 

364 



HOW DONKEY PULLED A TOOTH. 

yanked with all his might. He might just as well have 
tried to pull a tree out of the ground. He rested a few 
moments, then sent for some hay wire and a lariat, and 
after wiring the lariat to the tooth, tied it to Damfino's 
hind feet. We other donks were holding our sides; I 
thought I would *'bust." Then, when the patient was 
unbound — that cantankerous donkey's four legs were 
roped together to prevent further excavations in the local 
cemetery — there was performed the neatest, cleverest, 
most thoroughly successful piece of dental surgery that I 
ever heard of. That moaning "Old maid" just kicked 
the tooth clean out of her jaw. And, s'help me Balaam! 
the root of all that evil was three inches long. 

Poor Damfino was the last to realize that the trick had 
been accomplished, and kept on kicking till she threw 
off the lariat and slung the molar half way through the 
side of the store. When Pod showed her the tooth, she 
brayed for the loss of it, and as evidence of her ingrati- 
tude, the shrew turned to me and whispered: "Mac, 
since I pulled my own tooth, how can that brutal dentist 
have the nerve to ask pay for it?" 

"He got the nerve from your tooth, like as not," I 
said. "You once told me that the Bible says, ^An eye 
for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,' " — and in a jifify 
Damfino made for that innocent, fleet-footed tooth-doc- 
tor, before Pod could have time to settle with him. 

Before long, I was leading the troop up the sage- 
covered mesa in step with Damfino's mutterings. When 
we arrived at Billy Jones' ranch, Billy was leaning on 
the picket fence in front of his back door. His house 
was once turned around, hind side foremost, by a cyclone. 
He was munching pinenuts, and did not budge, at first, 
taking us for prospectors. When Pod introduced him- 
self, Billy almost fell to pieces with surprise. Soon Mrs. 

365 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Jones came out, and Pod was almost persuaded to re- 
main over night. 

But we did not tarry. It was dark and misty; rain 
threatened to descend any moment. When darkness set- 
tled, it was as black as Egypt and almost impossible for 
me to follow the trail. After a while a light could be 
seen through the mist; Pod said it must be the Tibbits' 
ranchhouse, where he proposed to camp. 

Suddenly, wwhile chuckling over a joke, we donks 
walked slam-bang against a barbed-wire fence, throwing 
the men into a rage. Then I leading the way, we fol- 
lowed the fence, turned a corner round a barn, and finally 
anchored at the back door of the house. Pod found the 
doorknob, and made the ranchman's acquaintance, while 
Coonskin pitched the tent, unpacked and picketed us 
donks, then both men gathered fire-wood with which to 

cook. Mr. T , when once assured that Pod was 

neither beggar nor tramp, authorized us animals to be 
fed grain and hay; but his wife said it was too late to 
prepare supper for the men. This did not disturb Pod 
for he soon had one prepared. 

My, that ranchman was close-fisted! Pod even had to 
pay for his kindling wood before starting the fire. The 
old man was a plain-looking ruddy-faced Englishman, 
as snobbish as he was penurious, but after a time he con- 
descended to "join" the five in a post-prandial smoke. 
And not until it was pounded into his thick cranium, that 
his strange guests were traveling like princes did he afifect 
to be hospitable. 

Long before dawn, our donkey matin song awoke the 
natives as well as our masters, and Pod issued from the 
tent, half awake, hardly in presentable condition to face 
Madam T., who was splitting wood, while the old man 
looked on. He now insisted on his "guests" taking 

366 



HOW DONKEY PULLED A TOOTH. 

breakfast with him, and afterwards charged for the 
bacon, eggs, coffee and bread double the sum charged 
by other ranchmen previously. The bill for hay, grain 
and firewood was also presented and paid by the amused 
Prof. Coonskin was rash enough to hint to Mr. T. that 
by some oversight no charge had been made for water, 
for our party drank lots, but the Briton said no, he'd be 
generous. 

He accompanied us horseback four miles, nearly to the 
base of the mountain, where we turned to cross the pass, 
and on the way acquaint us with the superior advantages 
of country life in England as compared with the disad- 
vantages in America, and admitted that, while a squatter 
in the West, he had for twenty-five years declined to be 
naturalized. 

The climb over the Antelope Mountains was slow and 
laborious. Across the flat valley beyond, mottled with 
sage and greasewood, alkali and sand spots, rose the 
summits of the Kern Mountains. We trailed through 
straggly groves of dwarf pines laden with cones, full of 
tiny nuts, some of which the men gathered and munched 
unroasted. Coonskin said they were a dandy invention, 
just the thing to break the monotony of talk, for they 
kept the jaws at work just the same; and they were so 
hard to gather and shuck that a fellow couldn't eat too 
many to crowd the stomach. 

The valley was about ten miles broad; we crossed it 
and camped at the base of another range of mountains, 

near the V sheep ranch. The boss was away, but 

his genial wife and son were holding down the claim. 
They visited camp after supper, listened to the Professor's 
marvelous tales, and next morning the good woman sent 
her son horseback to lead us beyond the point of con- 
flicting trails, to the entrance to the pass to Schelbourne. 

Z^7 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

As the lad rode off we donks joined in that pathetic 
hymn: "One more mountain to cross," just as a sort of 
parting serenade. 

The trail was smooth, but in some places almost oblit- 
erated; it was the old pony express trail of ante-railroad 
days. Sometimes it was steep and we donks pufifed like 
engines. There were the charred stumps of the tele- 
graph poles that the Injuns burned to annoy Uncle Sam, 
and occasional ruins of stone or adobe cabins or saloons, 
relics of those hot times of savages and fire-water. Every 
time I saw one of them I felt dry. 

By II a. m. we had crossed the summit and were 
resting near the great stone barn of Schelbourne. It 
is built strong, with sheet-iron doors and shutters, and 
high enough to admit a stage coach and four. When 
the Injuns used to get out for a little holiday sport, the 
stage, freighted with passengers, mail and express, used 
to drive in at a two-forty gait; and I've heard tell how 
the iron doors would shut and give the coach a friendly 
boost in the nick of time to receive on their armor a 
hail of leaden bullets or a shower of poisoned arrows. 

On reaching the plain, I heard my master tell his valet 
we would spend that night at Green's ranch. I was glad, 
for I was hungry; the savory smell of the nuts the men 
chewed was tantalizing. Midway the plain we were 
stopped to enable Pod to empty a sackful of cones, 
which Cheese had threshed by his wibble-wobble motion, 
and to refill their pockets with nuts. At length, we ar- 
rived at Green's a half-hour after dark. Here we donks 
were fed and watered; then Coonskin proceeded to get 
camp ready for the night, while Pod made a fashionable 
call on Mrs. Green. And — well, he will tell you what 
happened. 



368 



CHAPTER L. 

BY PYE POD. 

Here, brother Sancho, we may dip our hands up to the elbows in 
what they call adventures. But take note, though thou seest me 
in the greatest danger on earth, thou must not set thy hand to 
thy sword to defend me, unless thou shouldst perceive that they 
who assail me are rabble and low people, in which case thou canst 
come to my aid. — Don Quixote. 

It was early evening, October 5, at Green's ranch. 
The somber quiet of the place seemed to indicate a de- 
serted estate, but a dim light in the window invited me 
to knock. At once I heard feet shuffle across the floor, 
and a bolt slide in the door. 

*'Who be you?" called a woman, distinctly. 

I introduced myself through the key-hole and was ad- 
mitted. Mrs. Green extended me a left-handed greet- 
ing while holding a sixshooter in her right hand. It was 
a most interesting reception. 

"What are you going to do with that?" I inquired, 
smiling. The idea that a frontier woman should be so 
easily frightened seemed ridiculous. 

''Haven't you heard?" she returned. "Why, the whole 
country is up in arms looking for two desperate outlaws. 
They shot a sheep-herder last night in Telegraph Can- 
yon, and after robbing the fellow of four dollars, left him 
for dead. Mr. Green went to Egan Canyon this after- 
noon for the mail, and hasn't returned. He ought to be 
back by now. It is only three miles away." Here the 

369 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

somewhat perturbed woman glanced at the dock, which 
indicated 8:00. 

I conversed with Mrs. Green a few moments, and she 
invited us men to supper and told me to feed my animals 
from the hay-stack. I said we were well provided with 
food and fire-arms, that she might feel quite safe from 
the brigands. Now Coonskin called for me and said our 
evening meal was under way. So, I bade Mrs. Green a 
good night. 

Coonskin, whose chief literary diet had been dime 
novels, listened to the news with rapt attention, and 
suggested that I cook while he prepared camp for a 
sudden attack. 

"Gee! Wouldn't I like to capture 'em, though!" he 
said enthusiastically. 

"I would like to see you try it," I returned; "you have 
been 'spoiling' for a scrap with an Indian, or a desperado, 
or some wild beast ever since we crossed the borders, 
and I shouldn't wonder if this were your opportunity. 
Something tells me that we'll meet these outlaws." 

Supper over and dishes washed, we retired. Our bed, 
only separated from the earth by a single canvas, never 
was more comfortable. The night was cool and a gentle 
breeze was blowing, but there was no sound, save the 
braying of the donks. Suddenly I heard Don, who was 
on guard, growl, then a sound of wheels and a horse's 
whinny. 

"Will your dog bite, Mr. Pod?" called Mr. Green. 

I rushed out barefoot and dispelled his fears, and, 
after shaking hands, questioned him how he knew who 
I was. 

"Oh," he chuckled, "anybody would know you by 
your outfit; besides, everybody along the trail has been 
expecting you, even two desperadoes." 

370 



ENCOUNTER WITH TWO DESPERADOES. 

This was interesting. But I explained that his wife 
had told me all, whereupon he invited us men to break- 
fast, and was escorted by Don to a point which he con- 
sidered the limit of his master's domain. 

While at breakfast I learned that the Salt Lake news- 
papers, containing illustrated accounts of my prosperity, 
had subscribers all along the trail; that the shooting at 
Telegraph Canyon was the first in that section for six- 
teen years; that no pay-boxes were expected at the Egan 
mill, where a half dozen men were working; and that, 
what was of more importance than the rest, it was the 
prevailing opinion that Pye Pod was the man the out- 
laws were laying for. 

"Griswold is the unfortunate man's name," said Green. 
*'The outlaws pretended to be friendly, lunched with him, 
and started of¥ on their horses. But Griswold had no 
sooner turned his back than the strangers ordered him 
to throw up his hands. They took all his funds, shot 
him, and galloped away with his good horses, leaving 
their jaded ones. The poor fellow regained conscious- 
ness, and managed by morning to crawl six miles to a 
ranch. Resolute men hurriedly saddled their horses, 
and soon thirty were after the outlaws. I hear Griswold 
is with them, he having recovered. But they say at 
Egan that some of the boys this afternoon gave up the 
chase, because it was getting too warm for them; they 
felt pretty near the game." 

Mr. Green gave me a second-handed description of the 
desperadoes and their outfit, and directing me on my 
route, wished us Godspeed. 

I felt that my route forced me to overtake rather than 
to meet by chance two men who set but little value on 
other men's lives, and even less on their own; therefore 

371 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

having everything to gain and nothing to lose, they put 
up the best kind of a fight. 

We soon arrived at Egan, where we were kindly re- 
ceived. The men showed us about the works, allowing 
me to take photographs, and gave me a more accurate 
description of the outlaws, and the long trail of a hun- 
dred miles to Eureka. At three points only should we 
find water, at Nine Mile Spring, Thirty Mile and Pinto 
Creek, the latter being seventy miles away. No habita- 
tion would we see; only an occasional coyote, or a band 
of wild horses, or possibly some prairie schooner, or the 
outlaws, or some of the posses. 

By trailing through Egan Canyon we cut the back- 
bone of the mountain range and now, at an altitude of 
several hundred feet above the plain, were climbing 
higher and higher the rugged plateau, until we reached 
Nine Mile, and unpacked. The spring was in a grassy 
spot, and Coonskin first replenished our canteens, then 
released the donkeys. 

It was noon. Accustomed as we were to travel on two 
meals a day, I could set no regular hour for them. It 
was twenty-one miles to Thirty Mile Spring. So we 
cooked here. 

The desperadoes formed the chief topic of discussion, 
even Don showed the bloodhound in him, and, ever since 
leaving Egan, showed unusual excitement and was more 
vigilant. We must have crossed the tracks of the out- 
laws, or were following them unwittingly. Taking 
everything into consideration, we were in a fair mood to 
be startled when the dog sprang to his feet, and growled. 
Then three men, heavily armed, galloped up and dis- 
mounted. I was relieved when I saw one of the riders 
wearing a bandage round his head; it must be Griswold. 

The strangers left their steeds standing, each tying a 



ENCOUNTER WITH TWO DESPERADOES. 

rein to a stirrup, then introduced themselves. We had 
just finished kuich and were smoking when the posse 
arrived; but now Coonskin cooked for our friends, while 
I did all the honors and gleaned all the information 
essential to our interests. They were affable fellows and 
resolute, but had set out hardly equipped for the chase. 
One picked up a two-quart canteen, saying good- 
naturedly that he reckoned he would have to rustle it. 
I said they were welcome to anything I could spare. 

Before separating on our several missions, Coonskin 
photographed the party, and Griswold repeated his de- 
scription of the outlaws. Couriers had been dispatched to 
Ely, Hamilton, Eureka, and other points; these men 
were bound for Hunter, seven miles over the mesa. Be- 
fore leaving they asked me if I would blaze a sage-brush 
fire that night should I reach Thirty Mile and discover 
any evidence of the bandits. They also admonished me 
to hold up and shoot without considering an instant any 
two mounted men of the description given, else we two 
would never live to tell how it happened. 

With this parting injunction, unofficial though it was, 
the riders loped away, and my nervous troop, at half-past 
two, "hit the trail" in lively form. I was glad the coun- 
try was clear and open. Only an occasional dwarf cedar 
stood in dark relief against the sage. About midnight 
the grade began perceptibly to grow steeper, and in con- 
sequence of the clouds which had gathered the darkness 
was dense. I felt we must be near to Thirty Mile. The 
idea of passing the spring and having to trace our steps 
next morning was not to be entertained. Seeing a bunch 
of cedars some distance to the right, I headed for them. 
And there we camped. Behind the screen of three small 
trees and the darkness we spread our blankets, lunched 
on bread and cold meat, and went to sleep. The donk- 

27Z 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

eys were picketed still another hundred yards back, so 
as not to be seen from the trail; we did not light a fire. 

By ten o'clock next morning we had breakfasted, and 
were trailing toward the smnmit of the plateau. Three 
miles further on was Thirty Mile. Here again I un- 
packed the animals for an hour's grazing on the grass 
by the spring. 

The noon hour found us weary travelers reclining on a 
heap of blankets. To the east, some fifty feet away, 
stood a tub, obscured by pussy willows, and brimming 
with cool water furnished by a cedar trough which 
reached from the bubbling spring. The overflow streamed 
down a tiny gorge in the hard soil, under cover of the wil- 
lows, and finally sank in the earth. 

"I'm afraid the fellows ain't going to bother us after 
all," said Coonskin disappointedly, at length. "I'd give 
a farm to get a whack at them." 

He had no sooner uttered the words than he turned 
pale, and I turned to behold two small moving dots on 
the horizon, some two miles down the trail. "Jove!" 
he added, "I believe the outlaws are coming." 

Indeed, I could make out two men, mounted on a dark 
and a light-colored horse respectively, slowly approach- 
ing. Assigning to my valet the shot-gun and the Smith 
& Wesson double-action revolver, I loaded two extra 
shells with buckshot, tested the locks of my Winchester 
and single-action Colt revolver, gave Coonskin explicit 
instructions, and awaited events. 

When the strange riders rode to within a half mile of 
us they stopped and dismounted. It was plain they were 
cinching their saddles, probably preparing to do some 
rough riding. The dark horse appeared to be somewhat 
darker than the one described by Griswold, but I was 
cautioned that they might exchange a horse for one on 

374 



ENCOUNTER WITH TWO DESPERADOES. 

the range in order to mislead their pursuers. They and 
their outfit in all other respects tallied with the descrip- 
tion given to me. 

My companion in arms, who of late had evinced such 
courage, now showed signs of weakening. He protested 
that it would be better not to attempt to hold up the fel- 
lows until we were sure we were right, and when I said 
that I proposed to get the drop on them the first oppor- 
tunity offered, and to shoot if necessary, and should 
count on him to aid me, he was speechless. Don seemed 
to understand, and stationing himself some ten feet be- 
fore us, watched the strangers eagerly. I assured Coon- 
skin that if our dog allowed those horsemen to enter 
camp, we could rest easy, but if, when I hailed them, 
Don uttered a protest, we could mark them as the out- 
laws. "Don't let them corral us," I cautioned; "if they 
get us between them, the game is up." 

Those were anxious moments for me, as well as for 
the young man who was ten years my junior. I was 
seated on our packs, my Winchester lying across my 
knees, cocked; Coonskin sat on the ground at my right, 
with shot-gun in hand. Our revolvers were in our belts. 
Our bearded and sun-burned faces, long hair, and gen- 
erally rough attire, added to our unfriendly attitude, must 
have puzzled the approaching horsemen. When they 
had come to a hundred feet from us, I called roughly, 
"Helloa, boys! come in. You're just in time for grub." 

Instantly Don leaped to his feet, and with tail straight 
out and body trembling from rage he uttered a savage 
growl of defiance. He identified the desperadoes. 

Instantly reining their steeds, one of them slung some 
simple questions at me, designed, no doubt, to throw us 
off guard. 

"Purty nice lot of burros you've got," he began. 

375 



ON A DONKEY'S HURTIICANE DECK 



in 



Tretty fair," I replied disinterestedly. 
'Which way you traveling?" 
'West. Where 're you bound?" I inquired. 
'Just lookin' round. Which is the trail to Hamil- 
ton?" 

I did not answer. Then the man asked: "How far is 
it?" 

"I don't know, and I don't care a d ," I answered. 

coarsely, with bravado, as if I considered it wasting time 
to talk. 

The smiling outlaw now looked grave, and turning to 
his comrade asked, loud enough for me to hear: "Shall 
we go in and cook?" 

"No, better water our horses and go on," said the 
partner. 

Then, quite as I anticipated, while the more slender 
man rode direct to the tub of water, to the right of us, 
the other guided his horse to our left, to hem Coonskin 
and me in between them. 

Instantly I rose to my feet, and trailing the rifle over 
my wrist strode, eyeing him defiantly, in a line at a right 
angle with the course of his horse, but the rogue did 
not go far before turning his steed in the direction of the 
tub. There both men dismounted behind their steeds, 
took off the bridles with spade bits that their horses 
might drink, and regarded us tenderfeet with some re- 
spect and concern. They handled their bridles with their 
left hands, which left their right hands free to use the 
revolvers I had seen in their belts; in view of which fact, 
Coonskin and I took shelter behind our donkeys, three 
of which were lying down after rolling, and, aggressive 
as well as defensive, awaited our opportunity. 

Presently the spokesman of this bandit party, inquired : 
"Say, fellows, have you seen three armed men mounted, 

376 




''Through Dcz'il's Gate, their panniers seraped the walls." 




'Fired tJieir revolvers in the air." 



ENCOUNTER WITH TWO DESPERADOES. 

looking for two fellows riding a grey horse, bare-foot, 
and a sorrel with a bald face, they claimed shot a man in 
Telegraph Canyon?" 

"Not exactly," I said with a faint smile. "Don't think 
I ever saw three armed men." I waited a few seconds 
for my levity to produce the desired effect, then added: 
"There were three determined-looking fellows armed 
with double-barreled shot-guns who stopped here. They 
were man-hunting." 

"That so?" queried the outlaw, quite excitably. "How 
long ago were they here? Where'd they go?" 

"Oh just a little while ago. They took in a few cans 
of water, I here pointed in their direction, and said: 
"They were going to cook over there behind that knoll." 

At once, as I hoped they would, the desperadoes were 
thrown ofif their guard and looked behind them. And 
as they did so I raised my rifle and whispered to Coon- 
skin to pull on them. But "Sancho" never budged, his 
courage had left him. The outlaws turned their eyes 
upon us so quickly I think they must have overheard my 
whispered command. They hastily bridled, mounted, 
and rode southwesterly in the direction we were bound, 
while turning in their saddles and watching us until they 
were beyond range of our guns. 

I was in the mood to "jump" Coonskin for not aiding 
me to hold up the outlaws. Our one great opportunity 
to distinguish ourselves on the journey was lost. "Think 
of the receptions we would have had if we had captured 
and disarmed those desperadoes, and marched them 
handcufifed into Ely, the county seat! And think of the 
handsome reward," I said. 

The thought of a forfeited reward seemed to stagger 
the boy. I concluded my lecture with the emphasized 
mandate that henceforth I must not detect any unusual 

Z77 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

display of courage or prowess on his part, unless it should 
be solicited by me, and furthermore, I did not wish to 
hear any expressions of desire to attack anything more 
formidable than a jack-rabbit. 

Our donkeys were soon packed for a twenty-mile even- 
ing tramp toward Pinto Creek. I pinned a penciled 
message on paper to the tub before departing, for the 
benefit of the posse, and piy caravan was on the move 
again. About midnight we made a dry camp at a dis- 
creet distance from the trail, where without building a 
fire we made a cold lunch serve for our second meal that 
day, and retired. 

Next morning early we resumed the journey. By two 
o'clock we had crossed the Long Valley Mountains and 
were on the margin of a sage-covered plain, still probably 
twenty miles to Pinto. Several times we were puzzled 
by forking trails, and were in doubt whether we were 
on the right one to Eureka. 

I judged the valley to be ten miles wide. On we rode, 
the plucky animals swinging slowly along in that awk- 
ward yet amusing hip-movement characteristic of the 
burro, until I distinguished across the plain what looked 
to be a house. I decided to head for it. We arrived 
there at five o'clock, to find the place temporarily de- 
serted, to discover a fine spring and plenty of hay. 
Here we cooked our evening meal and were enjoy- 
ing a smoke when two men rode up with an air of con- 
scious proprietorship. They were Mr. Robinson, pro- 
prietor of Newark Mines, and his superintendent. Both 
were very hospitable. Mr. Robinson invited me to help 
myself to anything I or my party needed, regretted that 
we had not waited to dine with him, and asked us to 
spend the evening at his house and breakfast with him. 

When I told them the story of our experience with the 

378 



ENCOUNTER WITH TWO DESPERADOES. 

outlaws, they were greatly interested, and it called forth 
many tales of adventure from both those frontiersmen. 
We were treated to a heaping plate of delicious apples, 
and it was a late hour before we sought our tents. It 
was a relief to feel myself well beyond the outlaws' 
domain. 

Next day my good host directed his superintendent to 
guide us over Chihuahua Pass, which would save us a 
fifteen-mile journey around the extremity of the moun- 
tain by way of Pinto. 

The climb over the pass was rich with beautiful views. 
After rising several hundred feet and looking back, the 
vista between the summits and the plains glistening in 
the sun was superb. The mines were a mile or two up 
the canyon, and to this point my kind host accompanied 
us, after which his man on horseback led us over the 
roughest and most puzzling part of the trail. 

So narrow was the passage through Devil's Gate that 
two animals could not walk abreast, and their panniers 
often scraped the rough walls of the winding and rocky 
gate-way. Having once gained the summit, a great oval 
of bench-land spotted with bufifalo-grass, we rested and 
grazed the donkeys while we lunched; then we shook 
hands with the good-hearted guide, and trailed down the 
long, pine-covered slope to Eureka. 



379 



CHAPTER LI. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



I will feed you to bursting. — The Fair God. 

Eureka is a good old mining town that saw its finish 
when Congress demonetized silver. As have some 
clouds, it has a silver Hning; the earth beneath and the 
surrounding hills are rich, or rather poor, in the white 
metal. A few of the mines were still operating, and any 
one could see ten-horse teams drawing ore done up 
in bags, like grain, to fool any mule or donk. The 
night we hungry donkeys arrived in town we followed 
a wagon filled with bags of ore a quarter of a mile out 
of our course before Prof, discovered the mistake. 

I observed that the populace didn't take much in- 
terest in what I had to say, so I didn't say much, but I 
thought lots, and stored away plenty of grain and hay, 
to say nothing of water. The amount I drank would 
make a camel envious. But I wasn't satisfied. I hadn't 
tasted fruit for a long time. So I got out of the corral, 
strolled to a grocery store, and helped myself to dried 
apples; I was about to nab a bacon when I was driven 
away to a watering-trough by a kind boy who knew 
a thing or two, and then led to the corral. 

I remembered having eaten less than two quarts of 
apples, but before ten minutes were gone I easily be- 
lieved I had eaten ten bushel. To look at me you would 
have sworn I had swallowed a barrelful, barrel 
and all. Most of the day, I spent rolling round the 

380 



DONK, BOY AND DRIED APPLES. 

corral in pain. For the first time in my life I knew 
what it was to be really tight. 

The kind boy stood innocently by, and a companion 
of his dared him to go up first. ''Up where?" asked 
the kind boy. 

*'Up in the balloon, yo' big idiot!" said the other. 
"Jest got ter tie a basket to his tail, and git in, and 
hang on. Fillin' fast, he'll rise purty soon." 

That mockery was more than I could stand while lying 
down, so I rolled on to my feet and made both boys 
scarce. And if a horse-doctor hadn't stabbed me, the 
kind boy would have needed a balloon to save him- 

That evening saw me well again, but my cravings took 
a dififerent turn. I had a taste for a newspaper. Finally 
a man threw one to me. Among its contents, I ran 
across the following squib, and smiled: 

"MAC TEMPTED AND DRIVEN OUT. 

Some vixen let out one of Pye Pod's burros — it hap- 
pened to be his pet jack — then drove him to Pete Dago's 
open-air lunch counter, where the ass helped himself 
to that diet which would go farthest, yet take up the 
least room — dried apples. It's a sad story, but the worst 
is over, and save a small doctor's bill, and a grocer's 
bill, and a five dollar bill, and the small boy. Bill, who 
has been placed in the coop for the night, no other bill 
figures in the case. The distinguished party leave in the 
morning, also the nigh extinguished party (meaning me). 
Adam was the first ass to be tempted to eat of for- 
bidden fruit, but not the last. Adam blamed Eve. Mac 
blames a kind boy. Adam deserved some commisera- 
tion for having perhaps sampled apples too green, for 
we know what it is to be a boy, but no compassion can 
be tendered the 'narrow-gage mule' that is such an ass 

381 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

as to pack away a hundred pounds of evaporated apples, 
gulp down a cistern, and expect to fly." 

During his sojourn Pod wrote his weekly letter, dis- 
cussed the desperadoes with the sheriff, photographed 
some crippled, dried-up Piute Indians, and doctored the 
sick dog, for Don had on the trail imbibed too freely 
of alkali water. 

We left town the morning of October nth, and ar- 
rived at the Willows about midnight, after a long 
forced march through a wilderness. There Pod pitched 
camp. Neighing broncos disturbed my dreams, and 
daylight revealed a bunch of cowboys on a round-up, 
also a bale of hay, which set us all braying so loudly 
that we awoke the men in time to start for Austin 
before the sun got scorching hot. 

The cowboys were a jolly lot. They gave an exhibi- 
tion of rough riding which nearly frightened Damfino 
into epileptics and Don into hydrophobia. Then the 
whole lot of 'em fired their revolvers in the air and 
skooted through the sage, yelHng like mad. 

Our next stop was the Blackbird ranch, twenty-five 
miles further on, whose hospitable proprietor showed 
greater interest in the novel tent than in anything else. 
Coonskin took it down with one hand, pitched it with 
two feet, and while the wondering spectators pulled their 
whiskers, bound up the canvas and tied the rope with 
his teeth. 

The seventy-five mile journey from Eureka to Austin 
was accomplished in three days. There, the Professor lec- 
tured to an immense audience. 

Austin is another mining town that had seen more 
prosperous times; its people, like those of Eureka, were 
cordial and generous. When Pod and I led the troop 

382 



DONK, BOY AND DRIED APPLES. 

out of town, he was considerably enriched in pocket and 
mind. 

Twelve mile ranch is twelve miles from the town. 
Same, I suppose, as October thirteenth is the 13th of 
the month. Here was a large stock ranch, and the thrifty 
proprietor did his best to persuade my stubborn master 
to remain over night, at least until the threatening storm 
had passed. He would not tarry, but hustled us on 
in a drizzling rain. 

By nightfall we began to climb a canyon winding over 
the Shoshone Mountains, I think, and about midnight 
reached the summit in a blinding snow squall. The 
wind blew at half a hurricane gait, and the men were 
mad because they couldn't light a match to look at the 
compass and get their bearings, and Damfino laid down 
on the dog that had lain under the donkey to get out of 
the ice-shod wind, and the men wasted twenty minutes 
searching for the right trail. 

You see, my biped friends, that another range of 
mountains met the Shoshones at right angles at this 
point, and it was dollars to nutmegs that the men would 
miss the trail in the dark, which happened; as the result, 
two hours later, our outfit slid into camp for the rest of 
the night some two half miles from the plain. Breakfast 
was served at ten. Menu: sage brush for five. 

We were on the north side, and the wrong side, of 
the range, plain enough. Pod said it was Coonskin's 
fault, Coonskin claimed the Prof, was to blame, and the 
dispute would have ended in the blessings of the pipe 
of peace if Coxey and Cheese had not chewed up the 
only bag of tobacco while the men were feeding. 

We were now in what was, I believe, the Sinkarata 
Valley. It stretched many miles to the north, and ap- 
peared to be twenty miles wide at the narrowest point. 

383 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

No sign of habitation could we see. All day long we 
trailed through that desolation parallel with the range 
until we came to a cross-trail leading to the mountains. 
Here the men examined the compass, and headed for 
the hills. 

It was sundown ere we began the ascent, and ten 
o'clock when we went into camp half-way to the sum- 
mit. The air was chill, and we thirsty animals were 
left unguarded while the men built a fire. I smelt snow 
on the mountain peak, so did my comrades. My in- 
stinct told me that in a moment more we all would be 
picketed for the night. Our mouths were parched; but 
the men had only enough water in their canteens for 
themselves. 

Self preservation is the first law of nature, I reflected, 
and to think was to act. I whispered to Damfino, she 
passed the word to Coxey, and all five of us desperate 
donks stole away unnoticed in the darkness and followed 
our noses as fast as our weary legs could take us in the 
direction of the peak. The air was so rarified I could 
hear the least sound, and the slow-kindling fire flamed 
more plainly instead of more dimly as we widened the 
breach of confidence between us and our masters. 

"Rather hard on the fellows for us to run off with their 
water," observed Cheese, stopping for breath. 

Sure enough, the men were left without supplies, 
water or food. Not a thing had been unpacked. I loved 
the Professor, for he had many times made sacrifices for 
me, and the thought made me stop and look back. The 
men were talking and gesticulating excitedly. Pres- 
ently one started up the trail, and the other down, and 
were soon lost to view. They had set out on the wrong 
scent. With some misgivings I hastened to catch up with 
my comrades. 

384 



CHAPTER LII. 

BY PYE POD. 

Then, looking down at the great dog, he cried, with a kind of 
daft glee : 

"Up an' waur them a', Quhavrie, 
Up an' waur them a', man ; 
There's no a Dutchman i' the pack 
That's ony guid ava, man — Hooch !" 

— The Raiders. 

Never before was I in such a desperate plight, nor was 
I ever more frightened than now. I knew not where, but 
believed we were in the De Satoyta Mountains, possibly 
on the trail to pass between Indian Peak and Mt. Atry. 
We had kindled a fire, warmed our hands, and were about 
to unpack when Coonskin exclaimed, "For God's sake! 
Pod, the donks are gone !" 

Often had I exercised the importance of Coonskin's 
picketing the beasts before leaving them, but now was no 
time to scold. I directed him to take matches and exam- 
ine the ascending trail, while I retraced our steps and did 
likewise. Luckily our revolvers were in our belts, and 
it was agreed that the first to discover traces of the de- 
serters should shoot until hearing a shot in answer. Don 
went with Coonskin. The lighted lantern was left by the 
unreliable fire. 

It was difficult in the wind to keep a match Hghted long 
enough to be of value, even when protecting it with my 
hat, as I knelt on the hard trail or on the softer earth 

385 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

in the sage, and strained my eyes to detect the shoe prints 
of my runaways. Every few steps I stopped to listen for 
a signal shot, and deplored our dire predicament without 
food or water. 

I had about concluded that the only resort left us was 
an all-night tramp over the pass, perhaps to be followed 
by an all-day hunt in the next valley for a habitation and 
spring, when I heard the welcome signal from Coonskin. 
Presently through the still air came the sound of Don's 
barking, then I knew the fugitives were captured. With 
a lighter heart I now gathered sage preparatory to cook- 
ing, for we had traveled all day without a bite. 

Our animals that night were securely roped both to the 
iron tent-pins and the tent, so that they could not slip 
away during the night without taking us with them. 

When I opened my eyes next morning, Mac stood with 
his head inside the tent-door, wistfully eyeing the canteen 
by my pillow. My heart was touched, but I thought, 
"Self-preservation is the first law," and knew that, if 
turned loose, all five donkeys would have the asinine in- 
stinct to find a spring in time to save themselves, whereas 
a man might fall a hundred feet from a spring and die in 
ignorance of it. 

One hour after sunrise the breakfast dishes had been 
cleaned with a rag, in the absence of water, and the 
donkeys were standing to be packed for the dishearten- 
ing journey. A heap of ashes smothered some fragile 
hot coals of sage, which, from all appearances, were most 
inviting to any donkey to roll in. While cinching the 
pack on Coxey, I observed Mac to steal to the ash heap, 
look at it wistfully a moment, circle round it two or three 
times, and, kneeling down, flop over on his side, plumb 
in the middle of the warm, gray ashes, and still warmer 
coals. It was his custom to roll over several times, but 

386 



LOST IN NEVADA DESERT. 

he didn't do so this morning. He didn't roll at all. If 
he had fallen on a huge rubber ball, he couldn't have 
bounded on to his feet with more alacrity. 

When Mac once had his balance, he shook himself vig- 
orously and brayed, then eyed the ash heap as if it were 
a nest of rattlesnakes. The air smelled of singed hair. 
The donkey reached around and licked his side a moment, 
then he backed away. When one donkey rolls and his 
fellows do not follow suit, you can mark it as most sig- 
nificant. 

Two hours later my caravan had crossed the summit 
and were marching down the western slope of the range. 

Nevada is the home of the wild horse, and now we saw 
bunches of these wary creatures grazing in the distance, 
or running like deer for the hills at the sight of my outfit, 
although five and more miles away. 

It was 2 o'clock when, rounding a bend, my searching 
eye discerned across the valley, close to the base of the 
Augusta range, a building or hay-stack. My heart leaped 
with joy. Our canteens were empty, but ere long we 
might slake our thirst at a ranch well and give our faithful 
animals a treat. 

On we pressed until, passing the stack, we reached a 
trail leading into the canyon. A few moments more, and 
I saw a wreath of smoke ascending not far up the pass. 
My intuition told me it was the Maestratti ranch. And it 
was. 

We received a hearty welcome. Don, poor thing, was 
so weak from a prolonged siege of dysentery that he could 
scarcely creep to the house; but, while Coonskin and I 
unpacked and watered the donkeys, my faithful dog was 
fed scalded bread and milk by our hostess, who ordered a 
hearty meal for us men. 

Mr. Maestratti invited us to a bed in his house, but I 

387 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

declined it, preferring my own blankets; and now, as I 
strode wearily to it, I called affectionately to my dog. 
Something told me I was going to lose him, my devoted 
friend during three thousand miles and many months of 
travel. I missed the loving pressure of his face against 
mine, his warm tongue on the back of my hand, his gay 
antics and playful bark when in his happier moods, and 
anticipated the grief I should soon feel. I paused at the 
tent door and whistled. 

*'Don has stolen away to die," said Coonskin, feelingly. 
"That's just what dogs do. Let's take the lantern and try 
and find him." So saying, the man lighted up, and we 
began the search. 

We found him. He was lying beside a stalk of sage a 
hundred feet from camp, uncomplaining, weak, and 
breathing irregularly. The flare of the lantern aroused 
him, and he turned his bloodshot eyes to mine, as much as 
to say, "Leave me, kind master, I shall soon be out of 
misery. Do not mourn." 

Then I thought of his identification of the outlaws at 
Thirty Mile, and of his attack on the cowboy in Nebraska 
who had playfully lassoed me at my request. I remem- 
bered the chill nights in Iowa barns when he crept over 
and nestled against me in the hay that the heat from his 
great, warm body might keep me comfortable. I could 
not restrain my tears. My best friend must not die in 
the brush alone. We persuaded him to return with us, 
and made him a comfortable bed in a corner of the tent, 
patted his head, and retired. But soon the poor fellow 
stole out into the frosty night. 

It was not the rising sun or a donkey's bray that awoke 
me, but a woman calling, "Breakfast!" I intended first 
before answering the demands of my stomach, to look at 
my dead friend's face, but to my surprise and delight I 

388 



LOST IN NEVADA DESERT. 

saw the dog lying in the sun, his head up and his tail 
wagging, very much alive. He had passed the crisis of 
his illness during the night; I had hopes that he would 
soon be well. 

A fortunate circumstance threw us in the company of a 
stranger journeying westward in a wagon. Like every- 
body else, he showed great interest in my travels, and 
when he saw the condition of my dog, he offered to con- 
vey him over the mountains. 

We arrived at the summit of the pass by ten o'clock. 
There we rested an hour and fed our animals. The jour- 
ney down the western slope, while apparently as trying to 
the donkeys as the ascent had been, was more inviting to 
the convalescing dog, and he on the way surprised us by 
leaping out of the wagon and making after a jackrabbit. 

At two o'clock Don's Good Samaritan drove away to the 
south, and at four we arrived at the Donaldson Ranch. 
Many courtesies were extended us here and we were half 
persuaded to remain over night with these hospitable peo- 
ple. We cooked dinner early, gave our animals a liberal 
mess of barley, filled our canteens, packed and departed at 
seven with the well-wishes of all and a fifty-pound bag of 
grain, which was donated to Mac A'Rony. 

Darkness had set in. Although cautioned about two 
diverging trails which we would reach before ascending 
the mountain, before an hour had passed I realized we 
were going in the wrong direction. The night was chill 
and pitch dark. Quickly changing the saddle from Mac 
to my fieet-footed Skates, I rode back to the ranch. No 
light shone through the windows of the house, and I knew 
that every one had retired. I could see no expedient left 
me other than to arouse somebody to set me straight. 
Feeling my way to the house, I shouted with all my might, 
and soon awoke Mr. Donaldson, Jr., who came good- 

389 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

naturedly to my relief, saddled a horse, and insisted on 
guiding my party to the summit. We did not arrive there 
until midnight. 

The noonday saw me at Horse Creek, and midnight, at 
Sand Spring, where we camped. At dawn, a sweeping 
glance from my tent door revealed the most desolate of 
surroundings. To the west was a great barren desert, 
while on every hand were massive sand dunes, some of 
them towering a hundred feet. 

A breeze had sprung up during the night. After pur- 
chasing a peck of pine nuts from some Piute Indians who 
had camped close by for the night, and were now starting 
out on the home trail, I tied the door flaps as tightly as 
possible to keep out the drifting sand, then went back to 
bed. In spite of my precautions the sand forced an 
entrance, coated our blankets an inch thick, and scattered 
seeds of unkindness in our nostrils, ears and hair. When 
I awoke and saw the sides of the tent bended inward and 
half way up the walls an uneven horizon, where, through 
the canvas, the sand and sunshine met, I roused my 
companion and we dressed. In a few moments more 
we might have been buried alive. 

How we were to cook breakfast was a serious question. 
On unfastening the door, we were immediately bHnded 
with sand and alkali dust; and it was only with the great- 
est difficulty that I could find the ruins of the old restau- 
rant of '49, which at early dawn I had discovered only 
two hundred feet away. The floor of this structure had 
long since gone to provide camp-fires for many a traveler, 
but I kicked off a piece of siding. Then I tried to find the 
tent. I groped and stumbled in the blinding storm, and 
only by calling to Coonskin and keeping him constantly 
answering did I hold to my bearings and succeed in reach- 
ing camp. 

390 



LOST IN NEVADA DESERT. 

Saturating a few sticks with coal oil, I got them a-blaz- 
ing, and then under cover of our water-pail I ventured out 
of the tent and built a fire sufficient to boil cofifee. Our 
bread when buttered looked as if veneered with sand- 
paper. Coonskin, gulping down a half cup of coffee, 
echoed my sentiments when he remarked, "It takes plenty 
of grit to cross these plains." 

How we ever packed and drove our half-crazed animals 
out of that sandy hurricane is beyond my power to de- 
scribe. Blinded and choked with the sand themselves, 
they could scarcely be made to walk to the well. Having 
washed out their throats, Skates was persuaded to move, 
and the others followed reluctantly out of range of the 
warring elements. 

As soon as we were clear of the sand belt, we stopped 
and made our toilet. All day long while crossing that 
broad desert my eyes smarted and swelled, and they did 
not cease paining me until we reached the first habitation, 
where I procured witch-hazel. 

Grimes' ranch at seven o'clock saw my whole party in 
better spirits. I declined both the invitation to remain 
over night and to stop for supper. Mr. Grimes telephoned 

to Mr. Len A n, of Sinclair, advising him that I was 

on my way there and expected to arrive by nine. It was 
much after that time, however, when my outfit reached 
the ranch. When still three miles away and a full hour's 
march, we could see a lantern swinging, and when we got 
within a half mile the sound of cheers and calls of wel- 
come greeted our ears. We answered the signals with 
our lantern and cheered so lustily that Mac A'Rony 
paused to bray and led the donkey quintette in a heart- 
rending chorus. 

The day's thirty-mile jaunt thus came to a happy end 
in marked contrast with its beginning. A stalwart, broad- 

391 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

shouldered man, with a smiling face half hidden by a 
beard streaked with gray, lifted his sombrero as he 
grasped my hand and shook it heartily. 

"Welcome, welcome, my boy! Now make yourself at 
home," said Len A n. 



J I 



392 ^ 



L± 




b/3 


















tin 



CHAPTER LIII. 



BY MAC a'rONY. 



"A torch for me, let wantons, light of heart. 
Tickle the useless rushes with their heels ; 
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, 
ril be a candle-holder, and look on." 

— Romeo and Juliet. 

Old Len A n was a jolly old soul, and a jolly old 

soul was he; he leaped aboard in the middle of my back, 
and hollared to me: "Git! — Haw! — Gee!" 

We donks had a great time at that little desert metrop- 
olis. Len owned the place, that is, until Pod's outfit 
arrived, then Mac A'Rony owned it. Pardon my seem- 
ing vanity. When the nabob of Sinclair rode me to the 
corral, the crowd cheered me three times three, ''Hooray 
fer Mac A'Rony!" 

Besides Len, the sturdy pioneer of '49, there were the 
foremen, store-keeper, blacksmith, bronco buster, justice 
of the peace, postmaster, cowboys, cooks, and numerous 
wives and daughters and cousins and aunts all willing 
and anxious to make our party comfortable. Pod was at 
once escorted to the house to entertain and be enter- 
tained by the ladies, while Coonskin unpacked, watered 
and fed us donks, like a good fellow. For once on my 
long journey, I had my fill. 

Finally we were left to entertain ourselves. In less 
than a half hour I wanted a drink, for when we were led 
to the well I refused to imbibe; now I regretted it. 
Donks are funny creatures — regular Chinese puzzles. 

393 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

When you think us thirsty we ain't, and when we are we 
must help ourselves, or go dry. 

I discovered a rope dangling from a projecting arm of 
a high gatepost, nabbed it, and pulled; the gate did the 
rest — opened. So I walked straightway to the well 
trough and drank, then sauntered to the house to learn 
how Pod was faring. S' help me, Balaam! there he sat 
with Coonskin at a long table, surrounded by men and 
women, all talking and laughing and "joshing." But I 
noticed the travelers kept their knives and forks busy, 
and wasted no time. It made me hungry to see them 
eat, so I returned to the corral to finish my barley; but 
when I got there I found it already finished. No use 
talking, a jackass ain't to be trusted, nohow, at any timxC. 
The only thing left for me to do was to go foraging. 

Out I went, nosing around, hoping to discover a 
clothesline with some shirts and socks hanging on it, or 
to stumble over an old gunnysack or cast-ofif garment. 
After a little, I observed that the second largest house 
was the scene of considerable activity, and I sneaked up 
and peeped in the window. 

The ground floor was one vast room, presumably the 
bunk house for those men not having homes of their 
own. At one extremity a ladder reached from the floor 
to the loft. One half of the ceiling was boarded, and the 
other half looked white, as if it were made of canvas or 
sheeting. I suppose lumber was scarce out there in the 
desert. Now, a donkey's curiosity ain't to be sneezed at. 
Fearing lest I might be discovered and locked up, I with- 
drew to the rear to another window, when, suddenly, I 
ran into a heap of bedding and other stuff. I could ar- 
rive at only one conclusion; there was to be a dance in 
honor of Pye Pod. 

I had devoured half of a hay mattress before the guests 

394 



A FRIGHTFUL GHOST DANCE. 

began to arrive for the dance. They came from the vari- 
ous houses and cabins, clad in their finest, and among 
them were a fiddler and a mouth-organ grinder, who at 
once pitched camp in one corner of the room and tuned 
up. 

To open the dance, the Prof, led ofif with the landlord's 
pretty daughter in a waltz, Coonskin sailed around close 
behind with her black-eyed companion, and soon that 
bunk-house was as busy as a stock exchange. 

After several dances had occurred, the men excused 
themselves and came out to the table beside the lug- 
gage, and commenced opening several bottles of the 
"real article." I stood stock still at some distance in the 
darkness, but within smell of the refreshments, and noted 
that some took it straight, while others mixed it with 
sugar and water, or milk. Coonskin doted on punches 
of all kinds (except one variety reserved for obstreperous 
donks), milk punches, rum punches, whiskey punches, 
claret punches, etc., but milk punches mostly, and so this 
was an event for that unbridled youth. He gulped down 
several milk punches with great glee, and then followed 
the gang into the house and went at the dance again in 
earnest. Later on the men came out for more refresh- 
ments. At a late hour that "O be joyful dance" was 
brought to a sudden finish by a frightful incident, or ac- 
cident. 

It seems that the cowboys had to rise early to hunt up 
stock on the range, and therefore went up the ladder to 
bed before the dance was over. As Coonskin had a cot 
with them, he was asked to retire at the same time, so as 
not to disturb them. But that boy wanted just one more 
dance — it was one too many. 

When he started to climb the ladder I held my breath; 
once he slipped through the rungs and only caught him- 

395 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

self by his chin. The rest of the dancers kept their feet 
as busy as ever, and the fiddler had just called ''Balance 
ter corners," and everybody looked to be in good spirits 
— the best of spirits was in the men — when all at once 
Coonskin dropped through the sheet ceiling overhead on 
to the fioor in their midst. I was glad to see he lit on 
his feet like a cat, instead of on his head, as one would 
suppose with such a heavy "load" as it must have had. 
The frightened, embarrassed fellow chased himself in 
his shirt tail round and round that room, passing three 
doors at every lap, yet calHng: "Where's th' door?" For 
a moment everybody looked paralyzed. But by the time 
the first of them regained his senses, Coonskin discov- 
ered a door and scooted out into the darkness, and ran 
plumb over me. Both of us went sprawling on the 
ground. It broke up the dance and everybody there. 
The women gathered in one corner and laughed in their 
sleeves, and the men ran out to look for what had 
dropped out of the ceiling, or sky — they seemed sort of 
dazed like, as if they didn't know. When I got my 
breath, I set out for the corral and brayed with laughter 
all the way. 

Finally, I heard a familiar voice whispering to me in 
the stable door, and creeping up I discovered Coonskin 
shivering with a sheepskin about his shoulders. 

'They're after me, ain't they?" he asked. 
'Well, I reckon they are," I replied. "How did it hap- 
pen?" 

"Well, it was this way," Coonskin explained. "When 
I went upstairs to bed, I found the men had blown out 
the candle and left me to undress in the dark-hic-ness. 
I felt round till I found my cot, and undressed, all but 
my shirt, when I found my pillow missing. Says I, 
'Where's my pillow?' One fellow says: 'There it is, 

396 






A FRIGHTFUL GHOST DANCE. 

over there; wese had a pillow fight.' So I started to go 
for it. I hadn't gone far before I sort o' felt I was tread- 
ing-hic-on velvet, but I thought it was the punches and 
kept right on, till I struck the floor downstairs. That- 
hic-'s-all." 

Just then the men entered the stables and finding 
Coonskin huddled up in wool, had a laugh, and brought 
him clothes to put on, and went with him to the deserted 
dance hall, and saw him safely to bed. 

The more I thought of this accident the more sober I 
got, until I thought what a miracle saved Pod's valet, 
and wondered what he would have done without him out 
there in the desert. Then I tangled up my legs and 
went to sleep. 

Next day Coonskin was the most embarrassed fellow 
that ever rode a donk. The good-natured host could 
hardly persuade him to breakfast. Everybody was silent 
at the table, Pod said; but finally Len began to chuckle, 
and remarked that he'd been West nigh on to fifty year, 
but last night was the first time he had ever seen the 
ghost dance. Coonskin said it was no ghost dance, just 
a new kind of breakdown. 

After breakfast, Len gave Pod a look at his stock and 
made him stock up with all necessary provisions. He 
wouldn't take a cent for anything, only a few photo- 
graphs to distribute to his retainers. He even said he 
was sorry for the hard times; he would like to give the 
Prof, at least a hundred dollars. I believed the generous 
old pioneer, for it would be just like him. 

Pod began the day in fine spirits. He had been pleas- 
antly surprised on being assigned to a room in Len's 
house to notice the furnishings arranged with distinct- 
ively feminine taste; so he was not surprised, when at 
the breakfast table he catechized Miss A n, to draw 

397 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

from the lips of the blushing maiden the confession that 
she had resigned her boudoir to the distinguished 
donkey-traveler. Hence Pod had a delicious sleep in the 
downiest of beds. And, as a token of his appreciation 
for the courtesy, he presented the young lady with a 
silver scarf-pin which he had worn across the desert. 

I shared some of my master's regrets on leaving. The 
women hugged me good-bye, but when the ranchman's 
daughter put her arms round my neck. Pod was so jeal- 
ous that he jammed a spur in my side. 

After a time we got started on the trail. Len not only 
declined pay for Pod's supplies, but gave me a hundred 
pounds of barley. This my comrades offered to carry 
provided I would divide with them. 

For the three days following there was little else to see 
besides sand and sage and basaltic rocks. Ragtown still 
stands, a squatty cabin and dilapidated shed with corral 
adjoining, where old Ace Kenyon of questionable fame 
reaped a harvest from the half-starved emigrants of early 
days by extorting from them rewards for recovering 
their lost cattle, which he had had his retainers drive 
into the mountains in the night. Ace would place all 
the blame on the innocent shoulders of the Indians. He 
claimed that such depredations were often made by hos- 
tile tribes, and that only through the courage of his 
desperate cowboys could he possibly retrieve them. 
After the despondent emigrants had tarried several days 
and been forced to pay extravagant prices for provisions, 
and some of them induced to throw away their rags for a 
suit of new clothes, the cattle would be driven into camp. 
Then the elated travelers had to open their purses again. 
Ragtown, situated as it was at the extremity of the Hum- 
boldt Desert, was a sort of overland depot, and we were 
told that thousands of emigrants used to drift in that 

398 



A FRIGHTFUL GHOST DANCE. 

direction from other routes when water had given out 
and for miles the trail was then strewn with cast-off rai- 
ment, abandoned wagons, sometimes with oxen attached, 
and the skeletons of cattle and men who died from 
thirst. At times we could see the winding line of cotton- 
woods that marked the tortuous current of the Carson in 
the distance, and again the river would flow slowly b 
close at hand. Pod spent most of the dull hours playing 
solitaire on Damfino's broad back, riding backwards. 

We struck camp at the last ranch on the Carson the 
morning of October i8, and tried to reach Dayton the 
same night. Everything went well until we came to a 
point where three trails met. Pod had been cautioned to 
take the best-beaten one, so, the night being dark. Coon- 
skin left us donks in Pod's charge and ventured to ex- 
amine the trails. It was eleven o'clock. Not a thing 
had we had to eat or drink all day except a small meas- 
ure of barley. To stand waiting for that slow boy to 
get his bearings was more than we donks could bear, and 
soon Damfino whispered to Cheese and me to slip away 
from the outfit and follow her lead. 

The suggestion was at once acted upon. Each of us 
took a different course to start with, but we soon caught 
up with Damfino, who led us a good pace for two hours 
and ran us all into Six Mile Canyon about one a. m. 
There we lay down with saddle and packs on, and, to 
our surprise, discovered that faithful dog, Don, lying 
close by, on guard. It was not the most comfortable 
night I had ever passed, but it was better than standing. 
When Coonskin found us in the afternoon he caused me 
to change my ideas on that question, but on reaching 
Dayton, the Prof, was so glad to see me that he lavishly 
dined us all, watered us, and let us roll to our heart's 
content. So all scores were settled. 

399 



CHAPTER LIV. 



BY PYE POD. 



It means, monsieur, that a storm is raging at the summit — a 
snow storm — which will be upon us ere long. And, dame ! it is 
dangerous ! — Tartarin on the Alps. 

We left Dayton at two o'clock. Carson City lay six 
miles away, close to the Sierra Nevadas, whose towering 
heights, on the Nevada side, rise abruptly from the plain. 
That afternoon's journey was the last we were to expe- 
rience through the monotonous chaparral. 

When we trailed into Carson, the sun had gone down 
behind the forest-covered mountains, leaving me a little 
less than thirteen days in which to reach San Francisco. 

The leading hotel was pointed out to me, and a cheer- 
ing crowd followed us there and called for a speech from 
me. While unstrapping our traps for the porter to take, 
we men answered inquiries about the trip, then con- 
ducted our animals to a stable, to be cared for. 

I was glad to note that they were generally in good 
condition, although Damfino's shoulders were somewhat 
tender from the rubbing of the pack-saddle, as the result 
of her running away. Dr. Benton, at the stable, after 
dressing her shoulders, showed me the famous watch 
bequeathed to him by Hank Monk, the clever stage- 
driver of early days, to whom it was presented for having 
driven Horace Greeley over the pass to Placerville, in 
time to keep his lecture engagement. 

I had just registered at the hotel, and was chatting 

400 




f 



^' Began to ploiv Snozv fozvord Placcrville." 




''The Cattle Passed Us. 



ACROSS SIERRAS IN DEEP SNOW. 

with the group of men crowded round me, when a gen- 
erous, good-natured gentleman edged through the cor- 
don and grasped my hand. 

"Fm going to take charge of you," he said, with a 
comical wink of the eye; "you are my guest while in 
town." 

The next moment I found myself launched in an ofif- 
hand lecture on my travels. And I should have talked 
myself hoarse had not my host led me out to his car- 
riage. After telling the landlord to make Coonskin com- 
fortable, I asked who the gentleman was who had taken 
me in custody. 

"Why, he's Sam D s; you've heard of Sam, of 

course — editor, writer and humorist — famous story- 
teller — the biggest 'josher' on earth ." But that was 

enough. I fled. 

Indeed, Sam's reputation was known to me long before 
I arrived on his stamping ground. I leaped into the 
buggy, and we drove for his country home. 

"Keep yer hand on yer pocket-book!" shouted one 
of my host's intimates; whereupon Sam turned to me 
with affected seriousness and observed, "Good advice. 
But I took the precaution to leave my money and watch 
at the ofifice. I heard of your capture for donkey-steal- 
ing back in Iowa." 

On the drive my host recalled many happenings of 
the golden days of the Comstock, which made me lose 
all reckoning of the present. Soon we had reached his 
ranch. When I met his family I was ready to believe 
some of his accounts of the practical jokes he claimed to 
have played on his fellows. I was somewhat discon- 
certed when he introduced me to his wife as a noted 
"road agent" — an old friend of his who had wavered 
from the path of rectitude — whom he desired to feed and 

401 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

hide from the sheriff's posse, hot on his trail. But I was 
amused when his good wife, who of all would be ex- 
pected to know him best, apparently took his word for 
granted, and, regarding me with nervous suspicion, 
started to get me a quick lunch. But Sam delayed her 
a moment. 

"Dan wants to entrust this $25,000 with me until he 
has eluded the posse," he said to his wife, taking my 
weighty saddle-bags and passing them to her. "There is 
no fire in the front-room stove, is there? Might shove 
'em in there." She accepted the trust so seriously that I 
laughed outright, and exploded the joke. My hostess 
chuckled good-naturedly, and said that most any woman 
might take me for a bandit. I did look disreputable. 

Adjoining the ranch were a few acres owned by "Mrs. 
Langtry," and sold to her by Sam, so he said, but how 
he made the deal is too good a story to be injured by 
my telling. I was up early next morning. In spite of 
my host's urgent invitation to remain another day, I 
drove to town with Sam after breakfast. There I was 
shown several places of interest. 

Dark and threatening clouds hung over the moun- 
tains and alarmed me. My friend cautioned me to hasten 
across, if I would avoid the storm. By two o'clock my 
outfit left Carson and began the ascent of the steep trail 
over the pass to Glenbrook, a lumber camp on the shore 
of Lake Tahoe. Dr. Benton advised me to telephone 
him from Glenbrook, if it snowed so hard as to endanger 
us before crossing the second summit, in which case he 
volunteered to dispatch at once a relief expedition, with 
horses to break the trail and render me a safe conduct 
beyond the snow belt. I shall always remember the 
veterinary's thoughtfulness. My friend Sam must have 
been interested in the plan. 

402 



ACROSS SIERRAS IN DEEP SNOW. 

As higher we dimbed the steep ascent, the air became 
more damp and chilly, and the heavy clouds looked more 
ominous. We men were afoot, for my donkeys were 
burdened enough. Mac A'Rony and Cheese were fa- 
vored, merely carrying the saddles and guns, for Cheese 
seemed to be quite worn out, and Mac, while sound and 
strong, was the one, if it be decreed that only one should 
survive, I wished to take through. The donkeys often 
stopped for breathing spells, and not until we neared 
the summit did they require urging to make the fatiguing 
climb. 

By this time we were over our ankles in snow. The 
biting wind came down over the pass in aggressive 
sorties and volleyed blasts of cutting snow dust in our 
faces, nipping our ears and noses, and blinding us. 
By reason of the fast-falling flakes and the darkness, the 
donkeys often lost the trail, and the snow obscured the 
rocks over which we all continually stumbled and slipped. 

At length, when we stood on the summit and looked 
back over that battle-ground, I think all of us took cour- 
age for the final conflict awaiting us on the next and 
higher pass. 

We arrived at Glenbrook at eight o'clock and found 
cozy quarters for all. The storm having driven every- 
body indoors, the place looked coldly uncordial for a 
time; but as soon as its warm-hearted people were ap- 
prised of my arrival they hastened to welcome me. When 
provision had been made for the comfort of my animals, 
I returned with Coonskin to the hotel, where a hot sup- 
per had thoughtfully been provided for us. And there 
we recounted our adventures, which evidently afforded 
our auditors the keenest enjoyment. 

Morning revealed a dreary prospect. The snow was 
a foot deep, and it was still falling thick and fast. My 

403 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

friends urged me to tarry until the storm had abated, 
but I set out, after an early breakfast, for Myer's Sta- 
tion, twenty miles away. There I hoped to find feed for 
us all, and, should the storm be over by that time, com- 
fortable shelter for the night. 

The trail followed the shore of beautiful Lake Tahoe 
— never more severely grand and picturesque than now 
— followed it many miles before it led into the majestic, 
white-clad forest. The snow fell incessantly, while the 
rays of the sun, peeping through its cold armor, either 
melted it into slush or softened it so as to ''ball up" the 
donkeys' hoofs and render their tramp more difficult. 

When we reached Myer's Station it was snowing 
harder than in the morning, so I resolved to rest an 
hour and to cross the pass that night. The solitary 
tavern first came into view through the dense snow- 
screen, not a hundred feet away. It was four o'clock. 
Then a barn loomed up beyond and across the trail, 
and I felt grateful. I had great confidence in Skates, 
Damfino and Coxey; Coonskin and I had ridden but a 
little that day, so that, if Mac A'Rony and Cheese could 
fortify themselves with plenty of grain, I had hopes of 
getting all five over the summit. 

Alas! my hopes were soon shattered. There was 
neither grain nor hay to be had. The landlord explained 
that he didn't keep "no cattle." Even the pantry was 
depleted, but my host would find a bite for us men, and 
"boil" us some tea, which would have to suffice until the 
expected supplies arrived. They might be delayed by 
the storm until morning. Meanwhile we shouldn't 
starve. I didn't intend my animals should starve, either, 
but bought several loaves of bread and fed it to them. 

"Don't think I am going to stay here over night," I 
said to the tavern-keeper. 

404 



<<1 



ACROSS SIERRAS IN DEEP SNOW. 

"You don't mean to cross the summit in this storm!" 

I nodded. At that moment a man stumbled in, ac- 
companied by a frigid gust of wind, and, walking to the 
stove, stamped the snow off his high boots, unwound 
a tippet from his neck, and slapped his ice-covered hat 
against his limbs. 

'Whose jackasses be them outside?" he in<iuire(l. 
'Mine," I replied. 

"Where ye bound with them?" 

"Over the pass to Placerville." 

The man laughed, then, looking sober, inquired, 
"Where yer from, may I ask?" 

"New York," I said, nonchalantly. 

"Not with them little burros?" 

"With one of them." 

" Je-ru-salem ! I don't know but ye may cross with 
'em!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. "But I doubt it. 
Jest fetched down my four horses — left the wagon up 
to the hubs in snow half-way up the trail — snow must 
be three foot deep on the summit. You'll leave your 
carcasses in the snow, if ye try it, I'm tellin' ye." 

Said the proprietor, "If you will wait here till to- 
morrow, there'll be five hundred cattle cross the pass 
and break the trail for you." 

"I go to-night," said I, "and will break the trail for 
the cattle." 

I thanked both men for their kind caution, but said 
such impediments had stared me in the face ever since 
leaving New York, and never yet one of them proved 
to be an obstacle. As we moved off, the men stood in 
the hotel door, gaping in mute wonderment at my stub- 
born resolution. 

Darkness gathered ere we began the ascent of the 
mountain. Slowly the donkeys climbed the slippery 

405 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

trail, Coonskin, upon my advice, walking beside Cheese 
and watching him with utmost concern. The snow 
scudded against our faces, although the mountain some- 
what shielded us from the biting gale we had faced all 
day. The three stronger animals carrying the packs 
walked ahead, while close behind them struggled Cheese 
and Mac, supporting our saddles and lighter traps, we 
men encouraging them the while with kind words and 
allowing them a few moments' rest every time they 
stopped. 

Soon I feared lest Cheese would give out. At length, 
when about one-third the summit was climbed, he stopped 
and deliberately lay down. I knew that meant his aban- 
donment, then and there. We might induce him to 
climb a little further, but we might better free him at 
once; he would likely find his way back to the station. 
So we took off his saddle and bridle, cinched them on 
Mac, and, saying a sad farewell, hid our faces in our 
sleeves, and soon had climbed beyond his vision. It 
was no time to indulge in sentiment. Once or twice 
Mac, Cheese's oldest comrade, stopped and looked be- 
hind, then with a soft bray resumed the ascent; and from 
the distance at once came Cheese's response, causing my 
eyes to fill with tears. No two human beings could have 
shown more tender feelings at parting than did those two 
heroic little donks. 

Finally we came to the abandoned wagon, half envel- 
oped in whiteness. I had no idea of the hour, but it 
must have been eleven o'clock when my sturdy leader. 
Skates, began to stop for rest at every twenty paces. 

An hour later we could make only ten feet headway 
with every undertaking. I was afraid another donkey 
would drop at any moment. Several times I thought we 
had reached the summit, when a turn of the Z trail 

406 



ACROSS SIERRAS IN DEEP SNOW. 

showed a clear space, with Skates far in the lead, plough- 
ing and dragging her burden through two feet of snow. 

Suddenly, when we had all but reached the summit, as 
we after learned, Damfino fell with a groan. She was so 
strong and hardy, I had not anticipated her giving out. 
Coonskin thought she had slipped and broken a leg. We 
took off part of her pack, and at length succeeded in 
getting her on to her feet; but not far beyond she again 
fell, when, realizing it was from fatigue, we left her, with 
all the supplies on. We had no way to carry them, and 
I still had hopes of her resting out and trailing over 
after us. 

It was now a question of life and death. Could I 
but get Mac A'Rony through, even by leaving all else 
behind, I should do so and fight to the bitter end. Mac 
was certainly a wonder. After thirty-eight hundred 
miles of travel, during a period of three hundred and 
thirty-odd days, he was chipper and nabbed at me mis- 
chievously as I kindly twisted his tail. 

Eureka! At last we stood on the summit of that 
high Arctic pass of the snow-bound Sierras! Man and 
beast were ensconced in snow and ice, and my ears and 
face and hands and feet were numb; but I was too happy 
to feel any suffering. Could Cheese and Damfino have 
been with us then, I should have been jubilant. 

The battle was won. I could now see myself, in my 
mind's eye, in company with Mac in Golden Gate Park, 
gazing out on the balmy Pacific. After a quarter hour's 
rest, we resumed the journey through the two and a 
half feet of snow, until, after several resting spells, wc 
began gradually to descend. The air at once felt milder; 
the snow had ceased falling; as if crushed with defeat, the 
elements had retreated. 

It must have been two in the morning when Coon- 

407 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

skin, who was in advance beside Skates to check her 
impetuosity, shouted, ''Helloa, Pod, I see a house!" I 
threw my hat in the air with dehght. We had expected 
to have to wade through snow until dayHght. Were 
we all to find a refuge in that half-buried cabin? 



408 



CHAPTER LV. 

BY MAC A^RONY. 

How he trots along on his mule ! I declare the beast's ears are 
not so long as his master's. — The Hunchback of Notre Dame. 

The supreme moment of my life had "arrove." Must 
have come on Skates. I had crossed the broad continent 
at last — all but a little toboggan-slide of one hundred 
and fifty miles, more or less, and that would be easy sail- 
ing. I felt boastful now. When Pod wasn't occupied 
in prodding me over the pass he was quoting "Hannibal 
Crossing the Alps" and other heroic adventurers, imag- 
ining his little exploit of the same class. Prof., old boy, 
just bear in mind that hobo Hannibal was not so fortu- 
nate as to have five gullible jackasses to help him. 

The storm had abated. As I stood waist-deep in snow 
while the men-folks were trying to waken the sleepers of 
an uninhabited shanty, I looked back where we donks sang 
"One More Mountain to Cross" for the last time, and I 
gave three brays with a gusto. 

Standing in snow or water taxes my patience. Coxey 
brayed to the men to "get a move on," but Skates and I 
amused ourselves by sucking icicles hanging from our 
bangs. Pod's courageous valet received first orders. He 
rode an avalanche bareback down the mountain and went 
through the door without knocking until he hit the other 
side of the shanty. 

"Don't shoot, for heaven's sake, folks ;" he yelled. No 
answer. "Beg thousand pardons, friends, but couldn't 

409 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

stop," he added. No answer. Then he picked himself up 
and called. Ain't nobody livin' here? Speak up, I won't 
hurt you." No answer. The next thing that boy did was 
to find the lantern he had lost in the snow slide, and ex- 
plore the place. 

"The cabin's empty," he called presently. 

"Any stove and fuel ?" Pod asked. 

*'Yep," answered Coonskin, "and a hay tick, and-waow- 
w-w-w!!! — ! — ! — ! — ! — spook! Scat you! — and a gol 
blasted cat,'" he added. "Folks must've left just before 
the storm." Then to the dog he called, "Here, Don, 
sick'em — cats !" and Don sicked. 

My elated master next ordered Skates to slide down 
that chute to the cabin, and she shooted. He hinted that 
Coxey and I would follow, but I wasn"t so sure. Judg- 
ing from Coonskin's experiment, it looked too swift for 
my blood. But when I witnessed Skates safely descend 
and heard Coxey's whisper, "Come on, Mac, show your 
nerve," I was bound to stay with it and follow suit. 

We donks no sooner reached the door than Pod began 
to unpack us. It was no go. Knots and buckles, every- 
thing was frozen stiff ; my saddle felt glued to my back. 

"We must fire up, and thaw them out," said Pod, and 
he led us in doors. Coonskin converted some shelves into 
kindling, and soon the little stove was roaring like a coke 
oven. When we began to thaw, one by one the ropes and 
straps were unhitched, or cut, until we were all relieved 
of our burdens — and part of our avoirdupois. 

Although the men had tramped almost all the way from 
Carson in order to spare us, our wrenching and twisting 
in climbing the slippery summits had loosened our sad- 
dles, which rubbed into our shoulders until we were 
badly galled. Our proud flesh had frozen to the icy 
blankets, and when Pod, while near the stove saw our con- 

410 



ALL DOWN A TOBOGGAN SLIDE. 

ditions great tears melted in his eyes, and he rubbed my 
frosted nose, I suppose expecting me to purr. We got 
thawed out by three in the morning. 

That small apartment depicted a busy scene. We donks 
were so cramped that we couldn't turn if we had tried. 
While Coonskin dried the bedding, the Prof found in the 
luggage a box of tar, and gave us a good plastering. 
Then he put us in the other room, — it was a two-room 
house, — and fed us the hay tick, and a wooden soap box 
for dessert, and bade us good-night. 

I heard Coonskin mention something about supper, but 
Pod told him all the grub was cached in the snow over the 
summit and that Damfino carried the keys; there was, 
however, a possible chance of getting a bite later if he 
would go back for the supplies. Soon after I heard both 
men snoring. 

As I recall the circumstance, I don't see how we three 
donks stood it, cramped up in that small room, eight long 
hours before the men got up. First we ate the hay tick ; 
the hay went fast enough, but it took time to chew the tick. 
Then we gnawed soap box until dawn. The latter was 
savory, but rather tough, and had to be eaten slowly on 
account of the bones — nails, Pod called them — which 
would get into our teeth. Coxey happened to swallow 
one, and said he wouldn't lie down for a week for fear 
of puncturing himself. Every time one of us gnawed on 
the box Don barked, taking it to be mice. He lay under 
Coxey with one eye open, ready to vacate at a second's 
warning, for that donk pretended he was going to lie 
down every moment. 

We breathed the air of that cell ten times over, and had 
begim on the eleventh course when the door opened. 
What a magnificent pair of spectacles was open to our 
eyes ! The mountains on both sides of the canyon looked 

411 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

like great billows of a frozen sea, while the fir trees stick- 
ing out of the snow resembled the spars of sunken wrecks 
with their torn sails frozen to the yardarms. 

Coonskin was up first. While dressing he happened to 
glance out of the window and his tell-tale exclamation 
caused Pod to leap out of bed. 

**Well! In the name of Balaam, if there ain't Damfino!" 
he laughed. 

''She's a nervy dame," observed the youth with satis- 
faction. "She knows the other donks are here, all right." 

Curiosity led me to stick my head out of the door, and 
there, knee-deep in snow, stood the old girl, patiently 
waiting for an invite to our house party. Skates had to 
be taken up to pilot down the half-starved, half-frozen, 
timid refugee. Damfino slipped on the way but collected 
herself, and the "girls" whispered something to each 
other, which I could not catch, and laughed. I suppose 
it was a joke, so I got off an old one to Coxey, and he 
brayed with merriment. Then I told it to Pod, and he 
gave it to Coonskin, who snorted like a colt over a horse 
chestnut. 

As soon as Damfino was unloaded the men got break- 
fast. The dishes washed and our galls redressed with 
tar and cotton wool, our shoulders were padded for the 
saddles, and we were packed for the journey. Two 
o'clock swung around before we got up that toboggan- 
slide. Once there, we stopped for wind, then began to 
plow snow toward Placerville. 

It was a beautiful day, but the glare of the sun on the 
snow made us shed tears. Not a sound jarred the air, ex- 
cept the swish-swash of our pedals hewing away the snow, 
or an occasional asinine sneeze, or canine cough, the 
result of a night's exposure. At the steep and narrow 
turn where the stage driver nearly spilled Horace Greeley 

412 



ALL DOWN A TOBOGGAN SLIDE. 

trying to take him through on pony-express time, I be- 
came interested, and the spot where Sawlog Johnson was 
crushed to death by a giant tree faUing on his shadow 
riveted my attention for some time. I thought it a good 
place to rest ; the trees were bent by the heavy snow and 
ice, and I knew Hghtning never struck twice in the same 
spot. 

We reached Hart's shingle camp long after dark. Pod 
and I were cordially received and entertained. When 
about to resume travel next morning the drove of cattle 
which we were urged to wait for passed us. They had 
crossed the summit in quick time, of course, after we 
donks had broken the trail. 

Now only small patches of snow dotted the roadside, 
and we had a muddy trail down to the Bridge house. 
The keeper gave Pod a round reception, and charged him 
an all-round sum. We left early next morning. 

The scenery on that mountain trail was a thing to out- 
last a donkey's memory. One sheer clifif rising a thousand 
feet marks the site of a bold exploit. It is said that once 
upon a time Snowshoe Thompson, while out hunting 
above this cliflf, was chased by a grizzly, and only escaped 
by leaping ofif the precipice and striking the frozen river 
on his snow-shoes, the momentum taking him down to 
Sacramento, seventy miles away. On that cliff was after- 
wards found a grizzly of 1,220 pounds dead weight with a 
hunting knife in his heart. It was the coroner's verdict 
that the bear was so astonished at the fearless hunter's 
brave act that he committed suicide with the knife the 
hunter dropped in his hurry. 

Although it was near to November, the foliage of the 
trees was barely colored. The climate of California 
charmed me. We were making fast time down grade, in 

413 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK \ 

. j 

spite of our jaded condition, and we did not tarry for | 
lunch. When Placerville hove in sight I was a most 

tickled donk. Just one minute after dark we ambled into \ 

town, and were escorted to the famous spot where Horace ; 

Greeley first stepped on California soil. ij 



i 
414 > 



CHAPTER LVI. 

BY PYE POD. 

Who can tell a man from manners? 

Who can tell him by his close ? 
Beggars often smoke Havanners; 

Nabobs wear a bottle-nose. 

— Dog-eared Doggerels, 

Placerville greeted us royally. It was once one of the 
largest cities in California, and in those lawless days was 
called Hangtown. After describing my journey in my 
happiest vein, the thoughtful sheriff passed his hat and 
presented me with about nine dollars. Then amid hearty 
cheers for Mac A'Rony, we were escorted to a hotel. 

That evening Coonskin and I were feted by the young 
"bloods" of the town. 

The following morning a jolly party drove me to Co- 
loma, where I saw the statue of Marshall, and old Sut- 
ter's Mill, where he discovered gold. It was a lovely 
autumn day. The leaves were turning, but the verdure 
of the Pacific slope is more subdued in its colorings than 
that of the East, where the change of seasons embellishes 
it with scarlet. My genial companions were refreshing 
to me after being so long a recluse, but, returning to 
Placerville, I dined and wasted no time in starting for 
Sacramento. Coonskin had shipped to San Francisco 
most of our luggage, to relieve our animals, and at two 
p. m. my little caravan drifted toward the Sacramento 
Valley. 

The next stop was Folsom, the seat of a state prison, 

41S 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

twenty miles away, where we arrived at midnight. All 
the inhabitants seemed to be asleep. We were noisily de- 
bating about which street to follow, when a man called 
from a chamber window, and directed us to the best 
hotel, saying he would call on me in the morning. He 
introduced himself after breakfast as an officer of the 
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and 
asked to see my donkeys. I escorted him to the stable, 
but I feared trouble. I knew three of my donkeys were 
galled since leaving Carson, and was so solicitous that I 
sent Coonskin to have the blankets and saddles cinched 
on them for the start, hoping the officer would be guided 
by the wisdom of the proverb, ''What the eye cannot see 
the heart cannot grieve for." 

You may imagine how disconcerted I was when the 
officer uncinched the saddle on Skates, the one most 
galled, and lifted the blanket. 

''I am sorry to say, Mr. Pod," said he calmly, "I must 
arrest you for cruelty to animals." 

I protested, and explained that my valet and I had 
been as tender and solicitous for our animals' health and 
comfort as a father could have been for a child; that we 
had tramped across both passes from Carson; and that 
the galls resulted from unavoidable loosening of the 
cinches and the shifting of the saddles. We had even 
changed the packs from one animal to another at fre- 
quent intervals to distribute equally the general burden. 
If he doubted my word we would show him our feet. 

The sight of our sore and bleeding feet caused the 
"humane" officer to blush at his threat, and as a sympa- 
thetic murmur ran through the crowd he said: "Pro- 
fessor, I must say, you men are exonerated. You are 
as bad off as your poor donkeys, but I cannot let you 
take this animal out of town in that condition." 

416 



"Across on 
the exclusive 
Solano." 



"1 
pointed 
toward the 
goal." 



"The 

Ferry approach in 

'Frisco was 

choked ivitli 

a rabble." 




'FRISCO AT LAST, WE WIN! 

I was grieved to part with Skates, who had piloted us 
across the summits in that heavy storm, but the law must 
be obeyed. I sold the donkey to a son of the hotel 
landlord, who promised to cherish her as a pet. We 
were allowed to proceed with the rest on condition that 
neither of us would ride. 

It was a long day's journey to the capital, upwards of 
thirty miles, and we got under way by nine o'clock. 
Coonskin and I could scarcely walk, and as we drove 
our three jaded burros down the main street we were 
cheered on every hand. After reaching the open coun- 
try Mac A'Rony, observing me screw my face and hear- 
ing me sigh from pain, seemed to say: "I'm sorry, old 
man, but when we are out of sight of those meddling 
ofificers, get in the saddle and I will carry you a way." 
The dear fellow; he could read me like a book. 

We threaded a lovely country. The orchards were 
denuded of fruit and verdure, but the vineyards were 
laden with their white and pink and purple harvest, and 
the waving alfalfa sent us whiffs from their fragrant 
censers all along the trail. We stopped at the great 
Sonora Vineyard to rest and enjoy some Muscat grapes; 
and shortly after lunch hour, we rested again at a weigh- 
ing station, where I received a telephone message in- 
quiring when we might be expected at the capital. 

Handkerchiefs and hats were waving from the balco- 
nies of the Golden Eagle Hotel, Sacramento, and news- 
boys were crying the arrival of Pod and Mac A'Rony 
as we approached. While I had tramped most all of 
the way from Folsom, I rode into the city, and after a 
brief address at the hotel, sent my animals to the 
stable. 

The landlord welcomed me cordially, and I was imme- 
diately assailed by reporters. The next morning a news- 

417 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

paper man took me driving about the city. I was pre- 
sented to several state officials, and shown through the 
handsomest state capitol grounds in the Union. Half 
the day was devoted to business duties; in the evening I 
delivered a lecture; and several times I was asked to es- 
cort a party of ladies to the stable to see the donkey that 
enjoyed the unrivaled distinction of having made a 4,000 
mile journey from the Hudson to the Sacramento. 

Next day we started for 'Frisco at eight a. m. Just 
five days were left us in which to travel the ninety miles to 
our goal. There were many who advised me to go by 
way of Stockton, a longer journey by forty miles, cau- 
tioning me that my donkeys would not be allowed to 
cross in the "Solano" ferry at Benicia, which was re- 
served strictly for people and passenger trains. 

But we started on the shorter route, Mac and I lead- 
ing the way out of the beautiful city and along the banks 
of the Sacramento River, through the toolies and hop 
fields towards Davisville. 

When yet a mile to town, Damfino while not even 
carrying a saddle, staggered and showed symptoms of 
the colic. The noble beast had done her duty on the 
hard trip from Iowa, and being the biggest and strongest, 
she had borne the heaviest burden. She had earned her 
freedom. I decided to leave her by the roadside. Some- 
body would soon find her, and take good care of her; 
which I afterwards learned to be the case. 

Next morning Coonskin and I set out early with the 
remaining two donkeys, Mac A'Rony and Coxey, for 
Suisun, some twenty-five miles away, we walking two- 
thirds of the distance for the sake of our animals, al- 
though augmenting our own sufferings, for our feet still 
pained us. My dog, Don, on the other hand, was full of 
health and abrim with mirth. 

418 



*FRISCO AT LAST, WE WIN! 

Suisun welcomed us at sunset. That evening a happy 
idea came to mind; I would send Coonskin to Oakland 
by train. Considerable business must be done there 
which he could attend to, besides, he might arrange for 
hotel and stable accommodations, and engage a black- 
smith to put on Mac A'Rony the silver shoes which 
should be at the express office in that city. There was 
left me three days in which to travel fifty miles, but now 
I could ride alternately the two donks and not overtax 
either. 

I was received with usual courtesies at Benicia, and 
the hotel swarmed with townspeople and guests to hear 
about my trip. 

At nine next morning a sympathetic crowd accom- 
panied me to the ferry, fully expecting to see my party 
refused passage. 

"You cannot board the Solano with your burros," said 
the officer, positively; "the boat is strictly reserved for 
passenger trains and people." 

I did not show surprise, but calmly explained my over- 
land trip, and emphasized the importance of my reaching 
'Frisco with Mac by noon of November 3. 

"Will you send a message to the Southern Pacific's 
head office at my expense?" I asked. The officer said 
he would, and sent it. The answer soon came directing 
the ferrymaster to pass Pod and party across on the ex- 
clusive Solano and extend us every courtesy. 

The officer seemed much astonished at receiving the 
message. His obsequiousness made Mac A'Rony bray. 
When the expected train arrived and the Solano left the 
dock and the passengers realized that they were the first 
to cross in the company of four-legged donkeys, they 
treated to cigars and fruit and paid Mac A'Rony ex- 
ceptional homage. 

419 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECK 

Landing at Porte Costa, I was directed on the short- 
est route to Oakland, and amid cheers and hearty well- 
wishes started to climb the trail over the hills which 
border the river from that point to some distance south. 

It was after dark when, descending the bluffs and trail- 
ing a few miles along the river, I rode into the little vil- 
lage of San Pablo. The streets were quite deserted, and 
the few men I talked with answered my inquiries in 
Spanish. Finally, I entered a humble tavern whose Irish 
proprietor directed me on the right road. Only a few 
miles now lay between me and Oakland, and although 
tired and hungry I did not stop for supper, but pushed 
onward over the level road, now and then walking a half 
mile to rest my tired yet uncomplaining mounts or to 
ease my joints, until I rode into the city at midnight. 
Coonskin met me on the road and cheered me with the 
information that all the duties assigned to him were at- 
tended to, then piloted me to the hotel and the animals to 
the stable. After getting something to eat I retired. 

Coonskin had interviewed the reporters, and the morn- 
ing press heralded my advent in long and sensational 
notices. When I went to the stable everybody seemed 
to identify me with the traveler pictured in the papers. 
I inwardly chuckled when I thought of my dilapidated 
garb and general unkempt appearance. I was still lame 
and felt that I had walked around the world in eighty 
days. 

My poor little donks were lying down when I went to 
their stalls. The twenty-eight-mile tramp of the preced- 
ing day had told on them. Mac rose to his feet and stuck 
up his nose to be rubbed. 

You have almost earned your pension, too," I said. 
But now come to the smith's to have your new shoes 
put on. They are of pure silver, and befitting one that 

420 






'FRISCO AT LAST, WE WIN! 

has made such a record in the field of travel." The little 
fellow smiled, and playfully pulled the handkerchief out 
of my pocket while I adjusted his bridle. And when he 
walked out of the shop ''in" his pretty new shoes he 
looked as proud as any lad in his first pair of pants. 

Coonskin and I lunched early. The customary crowd 
followed my party to the ferry, and some crossed with us 
on the boat to 'Frisco. How happy I felt while drifting 
over San Francisco Bay ! I pointed toward the goal, and 
to a bystander, said: ''During my 340 days' journey, I 
have had only a vague vision of the city before me, but 
the day I started from New York I felt as confident of 
reaching it as I do now." Several passengers laughed 
incredulously; nevertheless I spoke the truth. 

The ferry approach in 'Frisco was choked with a 
rabble. Upon landing Coonskin and I rode our little 
long-eared animals up Market street to a prominent 
hotel, a cheering throng of men and street gamins tag- 
ging behind or following by the walk on both sides of 
the street. And when at two o'clock the glass doors to 
its great white court were thrown open to us, I was just 
twenty-two hours ahead of schedule time. 

The several rows of balconies were crowded with hotel 
guests and friends waving handkerchiefs and hats, and 
cheer upon cheer rose to the crystal roof and descended 
to our ears. The court was packed. I called a porter. 

"Bring a rug for my silver-shod donkey to stand on," 
I ordered. The darkey looked mystified, and had the 
insolence to question my strange request, but he soon 
brought the rug. The reporters aided me to urge back 
the crowd to give the spectators in the balconies a view 
of Mac's silver-shod hoofs, all four of which Coonskin 
Hfted, one after the other, for them to see. 

"Three cheers for Mac A'Rony!" some one shouted 

421 



ON A DONKEY'S HURRICANE DECIC 

from the balcony. It was the signal for a general out- 
burst of applause; and Mac, Coxey and Don, each, re- 
spectively, brayed or bayed his deafening acknowledg- 
ment of the popular ovation. 

Then I briefly reviewed my long and tempestuous voy- 
age of 4,096 miles on a donkey's hurricane deck in 340 
days and two hours. Frequently I was interrupted with 
laughter or cheers, as I cited some ludicrous experience, 
and the unbridled throng, many of them mere street 
loungers, laughed and yelled and whistled until, finally, 
the incensed manager was attracted to the Court. The 
police were unable to cope with the crowd, so I was re- 
quested to remove the cause of the disturbance. Indeed 
I was grateful for the excuse to get away from that wild 
scene. Coonskin took the animals to the stable, and I, 
after registering, immediately sought a more exclusive 
hotel, to whose landlord I bore a letter of introduction 
from a distinguished gentleman friend. 

I must have looked as if I had crossed Central Africa 
and had fought fifty tribes of cannibals. My clothes, hat 
and leggings were in shreds, my sleeves were fastened to 
my coat with bale-wire, and blue cotton hung in view. 

"Do you take tramps at this hotel?" I inquired of the 
astonished clerk of the Occidental, as I leaned on the of- 
fice counter. He stopped sorting letters and eyed me with 
curiosity, but before he recovered his reason, the junior 
proprietor appeared, and said: "Sometimes," then with 
a knowing smile extended his hand in greeting. 

"I believe this is Mr. Pod," he said. I nodded and 
handed him the letter. When he had read it the affable 
young gentleman extended me the freedom of the hotel 
and three days later got up a coaching party in my honor. 

I was soon a transformed man. After a shave and 
hair-cut and bath, I dressed and appeared at the office at- 

422 



TRISCO AT LAST, WE WIN! 

tired as a gentleman on parade, and was hardly recog- 
nized by the clerk to be the same man. 

Coonskin, too, I had fitted out completely; besides I 
gave him a sum of money and an honorable discharge. 
In a few days he secured a situation in a hotel, but later 
set out for a mining camp in the Sierras to dig for gold. 

I presented one donkey to Golden Gate Park, and sold 
the other, but I retained possession of my dog. Frequent- 
ly afterward I called at the park to see dear old faithful 
Mac A'Rony. 

In conclusion, let me state that I had eleven donkeys 
on my overland trip, never more than five at one time. 
I wore out ten pairs of boots, and put one hundred and 
forty-eight shoes on my animals at an average cost of 
ninety cents each, and arrived at my journey's end with 
several hundred dollars in pocket and weighing thirty- 
three pounds more than I did the day I set out from New 
York with ninety-nine cents. 

t 

"I am as free as Nature first made man, 
Ere the base laws of servitude began, 
When wild in the woods the noble savage ran." 



423 



EPILOGUE. 

This tale will be hard to swallow, because truth is stronger 

than fiction. 

The trip was more healthful for Pod than for me. 

There are four distinct distances across the American conti- 
nent, viz : 

Three thousand miles as the crow flies. 

Three thousand five hundred as the train steams. 

Four thousand by overland trail for a man. 

A million miles as a donkey goes. 

The most monotonous constant companion for a long journey 
is a man. 

There are more people who descend to the level of a jackass 
than donkeys that rise to the plane of man. 

If Pye Pod had been killed or drowned, or had died on the 
journey he would have been condemned and ridiculed as a fool 
by the same people who now applaud and envy him for his 
achievement. 

If I had died on the first day of the trip the world would have 

called me lucky; now that I lived through it, I'm d d lucky! 

M. A'R. 



UK 21 



190 







UN 9.1 1902 



1 copy DEL rOC-AT ^^,y 

JUN. 2t 1902 



